Ain't so far down
by Phoenix.G.Fawkes
Summary: Companion piece to ‘2 Single Parents’. A series of episodes featuring Darla and Spike on their road to redemption, since she gives birth to Connor till she has to face her new role as a mother.
1. Episode 1

**Disclaimer**: If I were the owner of any of this, do you think I'd be writing fan fiction?

**Summary:** Companion piece to '2 Single Parents'. A series of episodes featuring Darla (with a little help from Spike) on their road to redemption, since she gives birth to Connor till she has to face her new role as a mother.

**Notes: **Although this is a companion piece to my fic, 'Two Single Parents', it's not necessary to read it.

* * *

**Ain't so far down**

**Episode 1:**

_Well I just heard the news today _

_It seems my life is going to change _

_I closed my eyes, begin to pray _

_Then tears of joy stream down my face _

_With arms wide open _

_Under the sunlight _

_Welcome to this place _

_I'll show you everything _

_With arms wide open _

_Well I don't know if I'm ready _

_To be the man I have to be_

_I'll take a breath, take her by my side _

_We stand in awe, we've created life _

_With arms wide open_

_Under the sunlight _

_Welcome to this place _

_I'll show you everything _

_With arms wide open _

_Now everything has changed _

_I'll show you love _

_I'll show you everything _

_With arms wide open _

_If I had just one wish _

_Only one demand_

_I hope he's not like me _

_I hope he understands _

_That he can take this life _

_And hold it by the hand _

_And he can greet the world _

_With arms wide open_

'_**With Arms Wide Open, by Creed-**_

Rain was falling from the dark sky. It had been raining for long now, but it would have to rain a lot more to clean all the putrefaction and malice of the City of Angels' streets. And perhaps it would never be enough.

However, between the obscure and sinister alleys, between the sky-scrapers and the shinning lights, in the least thinkable place of all, there was a sanctuary. A sanctuary where a miracle was going to take place.

Or not.

Anguished cries of pain filled the place, so terrible that made the crystals tremble dangerously. There were somber looks on every face, but they tried their best to avert each other's eyes, afraid they'd tell too much.

'She ain't gonna make it. Or the baby.'

A heavy silent fell upon them, only broken by the crying upstairs. No one dared to contradict Gunn – no one but Cordelia.

'She'd make it. And the baby too. I've seen it, remember?'

However, her voice sounded far from confident. As the hours extended endlessly, her faith in the Powers or whoever who was controlling this (if there was someone controlling this at all) was fading. The child should have already been born, but the mysterious force that had protected him until now seemed to have forgotten him. Which wasn't entirely true. If he had been forgotten, at least they would have been able to practice a cesarian but every time Wesley had tried to approach Darla with a knife he had been sent flying backwards. Cordelia sighed. How were they supposed to deliver this boy into the world of the living without a bit of help?

* * *

Angel was taking her hand tightly, as any other normal father would have done with his wife during a normal birth. But this wasn't a normal birth. Hell, it couldn't even be called a birth.

Darla let out another cry of pain. She had suffered many kinds of pain during the four centuries she had walked among living and dead, but none resembled this one. It was like her body, mind and heart were tearing apart. And it felt so…wrong. Of course she didn't know what giving to birth felt like, but certainly it wasn't like this. She wasn't giving birth to her son. She was killing him.

On the opposite side of the room, Wesley searched frantically in his books for an answer, an answer that insisted to escape from him. No matter how many times he read the words and passed the pages, he just wouldn't find what he was looking for. Which wasn't surprising, as he wasn't sure what he was looking for in the first place. Who had heard about a vampire giving to birth, for heaven's sake? And however, it was happening. Or it should have been happening.

Darla shut her eyes closed. She didn't want to see anything. She didn't want to see the blood red walls that were trapping her, she didn't want to see Wesley becoming more and more desperate, and she didn't want to see Angel's soulful, desolated eyes. She didn't want to see what was happening to her, what was happening to her baby.

Her baby. It was the first time she thought of that life growing inside her like that. But it was her baby, her little boy. And she couldn't do a thing to save him.

How ironic. She had slaughtered thousands over the years with a song in her heart, and now she couldn't bear the loss of one single, insignificant life. A life that now meant everything to her, and it was slipping through her fingers nevertheless.

She felt the tears burning all the way down her face… She couldn't remember when it had been the last time she had cried.

'Shh, shh. Darla, don't cry. Everything's going to be alright', she heard Angel whispering in her ear but his voice sounded as if he were miles away. And maybe he was.

'You were a better liar when you hadn't a soul.'

Another pang of pain, more terrible than the others if possible. She bit her lips to not cry out again. God, the pain was so terrible, so unbearable… But all the pain in the world seemed nothing in comparison to the idea her child wouldn't live. That was the worst punishment fate could have given her.

_Maybe it's just that. A punishment for all the atrocities Angel and I did together._

She blinked in an attempt to sweep the tears away from her eyes. It was then when she saw it, so clearly that almost hurt her sight.

'Angel, this child is the one good thing we ever did together. You make sure to tell him that.'

And with no further talking, with any further explanation, she took the wooden stake from his coat's pocket and thrust it into her dead heart.


	2. Episode 2

**Episode 2:**

_I hear a thunder in the distance_

_See a vision of a cross_

_I feel the pain that was given_

_On that sad day of loss_

'_**My Own Prison, by Creed-**_

She just felt it. She couldn't explain how or why, but she did. She woke up in the middle of the night, and she knew at once that her son was gone.

And she knew that something bad had happened to Angel, too, because he would have never let anyone lay a hand on their child. He had promised it to her, and she had seen the truth in his eyes. Angel just couldn't lie to her. He had never been able to.

But when she opened her eyes, all she could feel inside was hollowness. And so she knew it. There was something wrong with her son, something terribly wrong. She could no longer feel him.

In spite of what she had believed once, the liaison between her and her child hadn't broken once he wasn't inside her anymore. In fact, it had become stronger than ever. No matter what she did, no matter how far away she was from him, she could still feel what he felt. It wasn't like she shared his soul or something, no. She knew damn well that she was soulless. However, there was an unbreakable link that connected her to the boy, a link that told her how her child was doing since she'd abandoned him.

No, not abandon. She would never do that. She just had to get away, far away from him. He was such a little, fragile and innocent thing, while she was so evil and powerful… No, she couldn't stay near him. She was too afraid of what it could happen if she did, of what she could do. It wasn't like she thought that she'd harm her son in any way, no. She was too attached to him, and it would be like hurting herself. But she had done so many horrendous things…

Angel had understood. He'd promised he'd take care of Connor for her, that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to thing. And now, however, her unbreakable link with her son was broken and she feared the worst.

There was only one way to find out the truth.

She was going back to the City of Angels…the least angelic place in the whole world.

* * *

Cordelia and Angel were kissing on the couch. Everyone else was minding their own business – Lorne and Fred were watching Connor while Wesley and Gunn were training in the basement, so they had the whole lobby for them both.

She broke off the kiss and whispered in his ear:

'I love you.'

Just three words, and yet those words had changed her entire life the first time Angel had pronounced them, two weeks ago, awakening feelings inside her she didn't knew that existed. And since then they had lived the fairy tale – with ugly demons, deadly prophecies, killing visions and psycho demon hunters, but for her was okay. It felt much more real that way.

But she still had the uneasy feeling in her stomach that told her it wouldn't last long. Good things never lasted long around here.

And very right she was, because as soon as Angel had whispered the words 'I love you too', she saw it. The worst vision she'd ever had.

She had seen Angel's death. And she had also seen her own.

When Wesley and Gunn heard the hurried footsteps and the loud, breaking noises upstairs, they knew at once there was something wrong. They grabbed the closest weapons at hand and ran upstairs. What they saw wasn't pretty.

There were at least twenty enemies surrounding them, both human and demoniacal. Wesley and Gunn exchanged only one somber look and they began to fight, without thinking whether they'd win or not. It never truly mattered: they fought because they had to. After all, they were heroes.

None of them ever saw Cordelia's sword slipping from her hand as an excruciating vision hit her, neither they saw Angel turning around, his lips forming her name as the wood crossed his heart and he turned to dust. None of them saw the end of the two Champions, so busy they were fighting the good fight. And no matter how long it passed, none of them would ever forgive himself for not seeing it, for not being right there when they had to.

They didn't see Holtz and Justine sneaking in and making their way to Connor's bedroom, and of course they didn't see when they knocked Fred and Lorne and took the baby with them. But Wesley did see when they tried to sneak out, and being the heroic fool he was, he tried to stop them. It had only taken a sudden movement of her white hand to his throat start bleeding as the cool blade sliced it.

He fell on his knees, dropping his axe and grabbing his bleeding throat with his hands. The pain blinded his vision as he fell on his back, but he caught one last glimpse of Holtz and Justine running away, Connor in her arms, while the demon Sahjaan followed them.

After that, everything turned black.

* * *

There were sometimes when Whistler truly hated his job. This was one of those nights. He had been sent to look for the vampire Angel, he had been set to put him in the right path. He had done so, and much more. He had prepared him, he had given him a reason to do good. He had turned him into a Champion. Or at least he had helped.

And now he was gone, after all his efforts, after all he had gone through, turned to ashes by a mere piece of wood. It wasn't fair. The Powers That Be had let him save the mother of Angel's child, after she had shown her selflessness with an ultimate sacrifice – the sacrifice that had started the actual birth – but not Angel, no matter all the acts of selflessness he had made over the years. In the end, all the things Angel had done didn't make the slightest difference.

Whistler sighed, as he watched from afar the blonde vampire, who was on her way to Los Angeles.

_I hope this time the Powers know what the hell they're doing_, he thought, before he started to follow her.


	3. Episode 3

**Episode 3:**

_Please come now I think I'm falling_

_I'm holding to all I think is safe_

_It seems I found the road to nowhere_

_And I'm trying to escape_

_I yelled back when I heard thunder_

_But I'm down to one last breath_

_And with it let me say_

_Let me say_

_Hold me now_

_I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking_

_That maybe six feet_

_Ain't so far down_

**-One last breath, by Creed-**

There he was, standing at the porch, his figure bathed in moonlight. From what she could distinguish in the dark, he hadn't changed since the last time she'd seen him, back in the eighties. His hair had been a little blonder and spikier, but on the whole he remained the same, almost exactly like she remembered him.

Time passed very slowly for their kind, years went by leaving them almost unaffected, but she had gone through so many things since that time she'd run into him in France that she had half expected to see him much more changed. But when anything of what she had expected had come true?

She hesitated. Could she give credit to what those vampires had said about him? They hadn't looked like a reliable source of information; on the other hand, she could see no other reason why he would be standing at the Slayer's front porch as if he owned the place. Of course, he'd always been quite arrogant but this was too much even for him.

Those weren't the only reasons she hesitated. The truth was the two of them had never gotten along at all. In fact, they had never been able to stand each other's pressence. Why would he want to help her now, why would he trust in her at all when no one else did?

Angel's friends certainly didn't: they had moved away so she wouldn't find them. They wouldn't let her get anywhere close to her child. Hell, Angel hadn't trusted her either. He had _cared_ for her, but caring was not the same than trusting. Truth to be told, she didn't trust herself either and with good reason. So why would she bother to ask for his help? He wouldn't help her anyway.

_Because you don't have another choice_. The only way to prove the world and herself that she was worthy of being close to her son was getting a soul, and it was too bad that him was the only one who knew how she could do that.

She held up her head and made her way towards him. When she was behind the vampire, she put a hand on his shoulder and called his name.

Predictably, he winced and his eyes snapped wide open in shock when he recognized her.

'Darla?' He gasped. She refrained herself from sneering.

'In the flesh.'

He gaped at her.

'What the bloody hell are you doin' here?'

Ok, not the warmest welcome ever, but she'd had worse.

'The Slayer'll stake you as soon as she sees you.'

'Don't worry for me, Spike, I won't stay long enough for that to happen. I've came to ask you a little favor.'

Spike eyed her, distrust in every line of his face. And yet again, what had she expected?

'What kind of favor?'

'Well, I need some information.'

'About what?'

She looked at him up and down before answering.

'I want to know how you did to get a soul.'

His jaw fell open. It was almost laughable.

He blinked and managed to put a straight face again.

'Why would you want to know that?'

Darla frowned.

'Don't you know what happened? With me, with Angel…'

Spike cut her in.

'I know what happened to Angel', he snapped. She looked at him, surprised. It was one of the rare times that she heard him call Angel by his name, and she was even more shocked to realize that what had happened to Angel affected him much more than he'd ever admit.

'Then you'll know about our child.'

'Oh, I see', he said, sitting at the stairs. He made her a gesture and she sat next to him. 'Are you tryin' to tell me you wanna get a soul?'

She was surprised he'd guessed it so quickly. Wow, maybe Spike was brighter than she'd thought.

'Well, that's the idea.'

'Oh', was all he managed to pronounce. A thick silence fell upon them, a silence that seemed to stretch out for ages.

'So you want to get a soul, become Caroline Ingalls and raise your kiddo?'

She ignored his sarcasm. She was too tired to play silly games.

'They won't let me see him', she whispered, without even realizing that sound was coming out from her mouth. 'You know, Angel's friends. I haven't seen him since he was born…but I can feel him. I don't know how, but I feel what he feels.'

Spike stared at her curiously. Curiously, not skeptically.

'And what is he feeling now?'

She closed her eyes as her mind drifted away. Miles away, to where her child was. And she felt it. There was no way she couldn't feel it when it was so intense.

'He's scared and lonely. He doesn't like the place where he is. He wants to go home.'

A silence followed her words, as Spike looked at her with his eyes wide open until he recovered from the shock.

'Darla, you must understand it won't be easy. I had to go to Hell itself to get my soul back and I was almost destroyed trying. You have to think about it, pet.'

'I already have. I'll do it, no matter the cost.'

He looked at her, and Darla was astonished to see there was something in his eyes she'd never seen before: respect.

'It looks like you've gone soft with the age, Darla', he said but she knew at once that he wasn't mocking her. She gave him a wry smile.

'Oh, I'm the one who's gone soft? Last I've heard is that you had a huge crush on the Slayer.'

Spike's face darkened, and she thought she had offended him somehow. But he wasn't looking at her: his gaze was fixed in a point far beyond them.

'I'm afraid is a little more serious than a crush', he said a little gloomily. 'It's ironic, isn't it?', he added after a pause. 'Me, in love with a Slayer, the same one Peaches fell in love with, and you caring for a child…your child. And we used to be the terror of Europe and the world beyond.'

Darla smiled sadly.

'Yes, we were.'

Silence fell again on them as they watched the night surrounding them. A night that once had felt so familiar and now was starting to feel out of the place from them both.

_We belonged to the night. We belonged to the night, and the night was ours. Everything was easy back then: there was just right and wrong, and we had chosen wrong. We didn't have to worry about anything else._

Now, however, they didn't belong to the night anymore, not completely. And they'd never belong to the day, no matter how hard they tried.

They both knew it, and none of them cared. It was a lost battle but at least was one that was worthy to fight for.

And that was more than they had had when they had been at the top of the world and everything had looked so easy.


	4. Episode 4

**Episode 4:**

_A court is in session, a verdict is in_

_No appeal on the docket today_

_Just my own sin_

_The walls are cold and pale_

_The cage made of steel_

_Screams fill the room_

_Alone I drop and kneel_

_Silence now the sound_

_My breath the only motion around_

_Demons cluttering around_

_My face showing no emotion_

_Shackled by my sentence_

_Expecting no return_

_Here there is no penance_

My skin begins to burn 

'_**My Own Prison', by Creed-**_

Darkness surrounded her, darkness engulfed her and she was more than willing to welcome it. She was more than willing to let darkness take the best of her, to let go all the pain, to give up.

_Get up._

With a moan, she rose from the floor, which was wet with her own blood, and stood up, ready to face whatever she had to. There was a resolved look on her face, an unbreakable determination in her blood-red eyes. She wouldn't give up. Never.

For a moment, she thought that the wish-granter was smiling – but she could no longer trust her eyes, covered in blood as they were.

'You're strong. But are you strong enough for what is coming, vampire?'

Darla's lips curved painfully.

'Whatever it is, bring it on'.

Now there definately was a smile (or something that looked like one) plastered on the demon's (was it a demon? A god? Who cared?) face.

'As you wish, vampire'.

During that endless night, Darla had faced many horroful things. She had fought against demons that were thrice her size with her bare hands, she'd felt a thousand Egyptian beetles sliding beneath her skin, flames had scorched her skin, crosses had left burning marks on her arms and torso, and had suffered countless ways of torturing, but nothing had prepared her for this new horror.

In front of her, there was someone she'd thought that she'd never see ever again. Someone she'd hoped she'd never see again.

He smirked...or at least it looked like a smirk. With his facial expression, it was impossible to tell, even for her, who'd been the one who'd known him the most.

'My dear one. So long since the last time I saw your golden head, your vibrant face'.

She was stock still, uncapable of moving a single muscle, uncapable of pronouncing one single whisper. He walked towards her.

'You have been lost, my dear. I can see. I can see what they did to you' He took another step towards her. 'They threw you out of this plane, out of existence itself. You weren't thrown to Hell, no. It was infinitely worse. You were thrown outside, you were thrown into oblivion. And yet you were brought back, but they brought you wrong, didn't they?'

He growled. 'Silly, unworthy humans. They made you weak. You, who had once been a queen, were turned into a slave. A slave of their desires and needs. Like when you were mortal, remember? I pulled you out of your misery back then. I couldn't do so the second time.'

He was standing right in front of her now, so close that the breath he exhaled every time he spoke touched her skin.

'You overcame that. I was never so proud of you like I was in that moment. You showed them what you were. And you broke them into pieces'.

She opened her mouth, letting out a faint whisper. 'How...how could you see? The Slayer... She killed you, like Angel killed me. He told me...'

He shook his head.

'She turned my physical vessel into ashes, it's true. But she couldn't destroy the essence. I was too powerful for her'. She shook her head, in disbelief. 'It is the truth, my dear. Did you really think a mere Slayer would kill me, that she would destroy me completely? Me, who have survived crusades and entire armies of humans and demons, of powerful spirits and necromancers? No, Darla. I am one of the Ancient Ones. I cannot die like that. I was merely thrown out of my physical form, doomed to watch the events happening around me. But not forever. I knew I would come back some day. And that day has come'.

He leaned forward, softly putting her hair away, and whispered in her ear.

'And I have come for you. You were a queen once. You will be a queen again, by my side. Your power will be even greater than before, as I won't be trapped any more. I will give you power that will know no limits. The whole world will kneel before you'.

She shook her head. 'You can't do that. You're a ghost, you have no power'.

Instead of getting angry, his smile became more pronounced. 'I will show you'.

And he did. Darla's mind was filled with images of glory and endless power, of entire nations bent before her, of rivers of scarlet blood ready to fulfill her thirst...

If there was one thing Darla had always craved for was power. The power to make everyone obey her, the power to put herself above everybody else. As a human, she'd known no power. She had been used, first by Virginia's puritane society, then by Wolfram and Hart. Her life had been fragile, her future uncertain. But with power...with power, no one would dare to use her again. She'd use them all, and throw them away when it suited her. She would no longer follow orders, but her orders would be followed. Everyone would look upon her in terror and awe, like a god...

'And that isn't all, my darling'.

With a wave of his hand, he conjured a form...the form of a tall, dark, lean man. Not a man: a vampire. One she knew too well.

He looked at her and smirked, his eye-lined eyes evilly glinting. He kneeled in front of her.

'Here I am, milady. I told you I would claw my way back from hell to lay at your side'.

Darla stared at him. She'd believed she'd never see him again, and yet here he was, looking exactly like he had in their glorious days. She glanced at the Master, the magnificent images of power still in her mind, then she looked back at her Childe, and the images of power became greater than before. Because it would not be just her who would rule the world, her lover would be by her side, and who would be able to stop them both?

She looked at him in ecstasy, and his eyes fixed on hers...and then she saw it.

There was something wrong with his eyes. They weren't the way they were supposed to be.

They were empty.

She remembered those eyes filled with emotion, with sympathy, with love, even with fear. Fear of what might happen if everything went wrong, fear of losing her, fear of losing _him_.

Him. Such a tiny, fragile little thing. She'd only held him once, under Angel's close watch. And when she'd seen him, she'd realised she'd never seen anything so beautiful, anything that perfect. And she discovered, or sensed, something much more powerful than power. She'd discovered the same thing that had made her go all the way to Africa and face all those trials. And she'd disovered why she couldn't fail.

'You're not real' She told Angelus. He looked up, shocked.

'I will be if you wish. If you wish it, everything will be like it used to. Better. Wish, and everything will be yours'.

Darla smiled.

'You've always been a terrible liar, even without a soul. I always believed you, though. But not anymore'.

In one quick move, she grabbed a piece of wood from the floor and tossed it through his chest. There was a look of utter surprise on his face before he turned into dust.

She stood still for what seemed an eternity.

'This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was the other way around'.

She turned to face the Master, still clutching the improvised stake in her hand. Suddenly, he didn't look that imposing.

'But all your dreams of power? It was what you've always wished for...'

'Another time, another Darla' She said, as she crossed his heart with the stake. His body turned into dust and then, before her eyes, both his dust and Angelus' vanished.

Then she saw nothing but blackness.

* * *

When she opened her eyes and managed to stand up again, she saw someone she'd already met that night. Except that it wasn't really him...

'Angel?'

She would have recognized him anywhere, but now he didn't look at all like the Angel she'd known. He no longer looked like the savior of humanity, the invincible champion that had defeated evil so many times. His eyes were hollow, his face gaunt and way too pale, even for a vampire, his spine was bent and there were several marks on his skin, as if he had been punished endlessly. Darla thought he looked...broken. As if he had been through the worst hell of all.

'Stop' His voice sounded as if it came from somewhere miles away. 'Don't do this'.

She looked at him, disconcerted.

'But Angel, this is the right thing to do. I'm doing this for our child'.

He shook his head, a pained look in his eyes. 'No, Darla. You can't' Suddenly he looked frightened which made Darla shiver. When had been the last time she'd seen Angel like that?

'Why not?' She asked, but she was afraid of the answer.

He got a step closer. 'Because we've done so much evil...we've hurt so many... Even with a soul, you'd only destroy our child'.

Darla shook her head, horrified. 'You know I wouldn't do that, Angel! I can't harm him!'

But Angel merely shook his head, a sad look on his face...the saddest she'd ever seen.

'Yes, you can. And you will. It's in your nature'.

Darla's temper rose. 'What are you talking about?' She shot him a furious glare. 'Your nature didn't prevent you from saving humans!'

He chose not to reply, taking another step towards her instead. She didn't move, her hands clenched in fists. She didn't know what Angel was playing at, but she wasn't going to be intimidated by his cryptic speech. She had gone through too much to be stopped like that.

'You don't believe me', he said, in an even voice. It wasn't a question. 'Let me show you, then'.

Before she could react, he'd placed his hands on her forehead. And she _saw_.

Darla had seen many hideous things in the four hundred years she'd walked on the face of the Earth, and far too many had been provoked by herself. But this...this was beyond any horror her eyes had contemplated before.

Her hands were stained, stained in blood... their infant child's blood.

'No' She shook her head. 'NO!' She screamed, as infinite images of horror and grief appeared before her eyes. A million of possibilities were shown to her, all dreadful and terrible. In all of those alternate futures there was an End of Days...and her son. Sometimes dead, by her hands or not, sometimes hurt beyond repair, broken beyond nature. All of them horrendous and abominable, all of them more than she could take.

She fell to her knees, and burst into desperate sobs. 'No, no, don't let it be true' She cried, burying her face in her arms, more broken than she'd ever been before. Angel kneeled next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

'I'm sorry, Darla', he whispered. 'But this is the way it is. You have to forget about all this'.

'But I-I don't understand. The soul was supposed to prevent me from...'

He shook his head sadly.

'Darla, you know better than anyone that the soul didn't prevent me from doing horrendous stuff'.

She knew. She remembered. All those lawyers dead by her hands, the look on Angel's face when he'd locked the doors... That night he'd given in and slept with her, hoping to lose his soul and end all the pain... The night they had created their child...

And the moment after...

She looked up.

'You returned. You returned to your friends, to your family... You were a Champion again'.

He shook his head again. 'That doesn't count...'

'Of course it counts! You've saved so many lives, you've helped so many souls...'

Suddenly, dawning comprehension hit her.

'This is another lie, isn't it? Like the Master and Angelus? Aren't your visions of terror the equivalent of all those visions of power?'

She rose to her feet and looked at Angel (or whatver it was) from above.

'You got it wrong. I would never harm my child. If that means being away from him, or even stake myself, by all means I'll do so. I've already showed I'm capable of doing so'. She took a step away from him. 'You're not real. You can't fool me anymore'.

As soon as the words came out from her mouth, the form of Angel vanished in a bolting light.

The blue, huge eyes appeared again.

'That was the last test, vampire. You have renounced your dreams of power, you have conquered your worst fears. You have nothing else to prove to me'.

'Now, which was your wish?'

Darla looked up, the blood no longer blinding her sight. Her face was resolved.

'I want my soul back'.


	5. Episode 5

**Episode 5:**

_'I'm looking down now that it's over_

_Reflecting on all of my mistakes_

_I thought I found the road to somewhere_

_Somewhere in His grace_

_I cried out heaven save me_

_But I'm down to one last breath'_

**_- 'One Last Breath', by Creed - _**

Days, weeks, months, years and entire ages. That was the time Darla was lost. Lost to the world, lost to herself.

Lost in past memories, dwelling in old faults. All her sins were unmercifully shown to her, all her crimes were brought to her mind. She was surrounded by her victims, thousands of them, all circling her, all staring fixedly with their empty eyes and their hollow faces. She was cornered by them, she saw her faces when she closed her eyes, she heard their anguished screams when she tried to sleep. They haunted her dreams and her watchful hours.

She no longer distinguished the day from the night, the memory from the nightmare, to be asleep from being awake.

She almost let herself die in that dark cave, far away from any human or demon. She could have let herself die – but she did not. Every night, she crawled out her cave, and hunted some nameless animal she could not bear to look on the face. She, who had been one of the greatest mass murderers in history; she, who had had no shame, felt sorry for a poor animal. Times had changed.

She did not know how long she was like that. Only that it felt like an etertnity.

However, one night she stood on her feet. She hunted down one last animal, and began to walk away from her hideout. She went to search for the nearest human town.

She was going home.

* * *

Los Angeles. Anything but an angelic place. 

Darla watched the city's lights and the buildings went by through the bus' window. Last time she'd travelled in one of those, she'd eaten alive all the other passengers. The last time she'd been pregnant. And soulless.

Last time things had been very different.

She finally reached her destination and got out the bus. She watched it disappear in LA's never ending traffic, then she turned around and studied the building in front of her.

It was a grey, square-shaped apartment block made of concrete. There was nothing special or staring about it: it was a common, dull apartment block, like many in LA. The old Hyperion had been more classy, no doubt.

So this was the place the remaining members of Angel Investigations had chosen to hide from her and raise her son. She noticed there were no parks or playgrounds nearby. She was going to complain about that.

Darla got inside the building without problem. The tricky thing would be getting into the apartment. She'd have to get an invitation. She snorted. Yeah, that was very likely.

She ran upstairs to the second floor, too anxious to walk at normal speed. When she reached the corridor, though, she forced herself to walk at a normal pace. She also tried her best to look natural, in case one of the neighbours was looking, or in case she ran into one of Angel's friends.

She saw no one, though, and within a couple of minutes she'd reached the apartment she was looking for.

Darla stood in front of the white door, hesitant. She cast one last nervous glance at her clothes, checked they were fine enough, and knocked.

She heard muffled footsteps through the door, and then a voice with a strong British accent asked:

'Fred? Is that you?'

It took her a moment to remember who Fred was. Oh, yeah, the brown-eyed girl. She remembered her well.

'No. It's me'.

There was a silence. Then, she heard more muffled footsteps, this time getting away from the door, and a few seconds later, she heard them again, coming back.

The door opened to reveal a man aiming a crossbow to her chest. She hand't expected less.

'Wesley, right?'

He ignored her.

'What are you doing here?', he snapped. He was trying to sound cold, but she could notice the note of shock in his voice. She almost rolled her eyes. Had they really believed they could hide from her forever?

'I want to see my son. Like the last time I came looking for you'.

He eyed her, raising an eyebrow.

'What makes you think this time we'll let you see him?'

She took an unnecessary breath. Since she'd got her sould back, she did that a lot.

'I have a soul now'.

There was no reaction, no shift of movements, nor the slightest sign of surprise on Wesley's face.

'I see. Well, assuming I believe you – which I don't – why would it make a difference?'

Darla _did_ show signs of surprise.

'How...how can you say that? Having a soul changes everything!'

Again, Wesley's face remained unfathomable.

'Not necessarily. I've heard that Spike, for one thing, kept on killing after his resouling' He ignored the shocked expression one her face and went on 'And it's not like souled humans can't do enough harm' He swallowed. 'A father doesn't need to be possesed to be hurtful'.

Darla stared at him, surprised beyond words at his last words. Sure, she'd seen many humans be cruel to their own children, but Wesley's voice denoted that he knew the fact from own experience. She soon pushed that thought away, it was none of her business.

'I'm just asking to see him. Just once. I wanna see if he's ok...please?'

Wesley looked into her eyes, and for the first time he looked uncomfortable. He avoided her gaze.

'I'm afraid I can't do that'.

'Why not? It'll be just a second!'

He shook his head.

'No, I can't do so because he is no longer with us. We've taken him to a safe place, a place neither you nor any of Connor's enemies will be able to find him. I'm sorry'.

And he shut the door on her face.

* * *

More crestfallen than she'd felt since she'd started her journey back to the States, Darla wandered for hours. There were so many questions exploding in her head and so few answers. 

What was she going to do now? She knew that Wesley wasn't lying: Connor really wasn't there, and he really believed she'd never find him. But he'd already been wrong on that once, and he did not know one little detail: her bond with Connor. That bond will help her to find him.

She made up her mind. She was going to look for him, no matter what. Sure she didn't have a clue of where to start, but she was going to find him anyway. After all she'd been through, she'd learnt that 'impossible' was relative.

But first, she had to visit an old friend again...

* * *

**PriscillaPal:** I'm glad you like this fic, I hadn't great expectations when I first posted it. About Cordelia and Angel, I agree with you: Season Four was highly disappointing, after all that had happened in the previous season! Not like Cordelia and Angel have a happy ending here, either, but at least she didn't turn out bad and planned an apocalypse, right? And if you want some scenes between Darla and Spike, this is the fic for you. 

**Imzadi: **Well, what can I say? Thank you for four great reviews! Really, thank you very much for all your comments. The parts of Connor's birth and Darla's trials were especially difficult to write, I'm relieved to see they turned out ok. And the scene between Darla and Spike is also a favourite. Thanks!

I'm afraid this episode is kinda short, but I promise next one will be much longer!


	6. Episode 6

**Episode 6:**

_I cry out to God_

_Seeking only his decision_

_Gabriel stands and confirms_

_I've created my own prison_

'_**My Own Prison'- Creed**_

The light filtered through the bars of the window, drawing shadowy lines on the floor. _Shadowy bars_. No matter where she looked, all she could see were bars.

_You've looked for this. You came here willingly._

Yeah, she had. That didn't mean she liked it, did it? Day after day, seeing the same bars everywhere, always reminding her why she couldn't go outside, why she was locked up in here...

And the bars were only the physical form of her imprisoment. Because she knew that mere steel bars wouldn't be enough to stop her if – only if – she decided to get out. But there were other bars – or chains – not made of steel, but a much stronger material. _Guilt_. Those were the bars and chains that kept her in this cage. They would keep her there until – until what? Until she was too old to do nothing useful? Until all the people she'd harmed and she had to make up for had long ago forgotten about her? Until _when_?

She did not know. All she knew was that she'd stay in the cage, day after day, watching life go by through the bars.

Because this was her place. Her own prison...constructed all by herself.

* * *

'Bloody hell, Darla, you got to stop doing that, y'know'

She opened her eyes innocently. 'Doing what?'

Spike snorted. 'Scarin' the hell out of me, for one thing'. He looked at her, frowning, as he took a seat on the nearest tombstone.

'What are you doing here?' She asked, also sitting on a grave. 'I thought you no longer did the whole 'cemetery haunting' thing'.

'I was doin' a lil' bit of patrolling...' His frown became more pronounced. 'I should be the one asking what the bloody hell you're doing here. Last time I saw you, you were on soul quest. What happened?'

She shrugged and averted his eyes.

'I got it'.

Spike looked at her impatiently. 'And?'

'And I went to see Angel's friends'.

'_And_?'

Sighing, Darla told him what Wesley had said.

'So, what are you goin' to do now, pet?'

Darla raised an eyebrow at the addressing (in the old times, such audacity wouldn't have gone unpunished by Angelus – or herself), but Spike's interest sounded sincere, so she answered truthfully.

'I don't know. I guess I'll start looking for him – but I don't have a clue of where to start. Maybe I could do a locating spell...'

'Spike, are you there?'

Both of them jumped to their feet. Great, now she'd have to face the Slayer, as if she hadn't enough to deal with right now...

Darla blinked. Ok, it had been a long time since she'd last seen the Slayer (hell, she'd been only a girl) and it wasn't like they'd been all matey-matey, but certainly this wasn't like she remembered her. For one thing, hadn't she been blonde?

At the sight of the red-haired woman in front of them, Spike visibly relaxed. 'Lo, Red. What's up?'

The woman, who'd been staring at Darla as if she were an alien, winced and turned to look at Spike.

'Oh, n-no, it's nothing. I just... I just thought Buffy would want us to get going. You know how she freaks out if... well, if we're out of her sight for that long. With the First and all'.

"Red" kept looking at her, intrigued. Darla was looking at her curiously too. She looked somewhat familiar, although she couldn't place where she'd seen that face before.

Spike, noticing the staring contest, realised it was time to introduce everybody.

'Red, this is Darla. Darla, this is R-Willow, a friend of the Slayer'.

Suddenly, realisation hit her.

'You're the one who taught her History, weren't you?'

Willow gaped. 'Y-yes, h-how...?'

Darla shrugged. 'I never forget a face'.

'Shouldn't we get going? Not wanna make the Slayer wait' Spike said, with the slightest hint of sarcasm. Willow blinked.

'Sure. Let's go'.

After taking a few steps, she noticed that Darla hadn't moved from her spot. She glanced at Spike, who said nothing, then she looked at Darla.

'You aren't coming?'

Darla's lip curved in a wry smile.

'I don't think the Slayer would be happy to see me'.

Willow let out a small 'oh'.

'Sorry, but as Spike's said you'd gone to get a soul and all...'

Frowning, Darla turned to face the vampire. 'Did you publish it in the Daily Sunnyhell?'

Spike had the grace to look a little bit uncomfortable at her glare. 'It sort of came out'.

Darla rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, sure'.

'But you've got your soul back, didn't you? I mean, now you fight for the good guys, don't you?'

She stared at Willow. Until that very moment, it hadn't occured to her that she was one of the good guys.

'Cos, you know, we could use some extra help'.

Darla's eyes were as round as saucers. Never, in nearly four centuries of existence, anybody had dared to ask for her help. And she'd never thought someone would want it anyway, being bad and all. But it seemed that things were different in a Hellmouth.

'Well, I'm not sure. I mean, I'm not very used to this whole being a good guy thing'.

Willow nodded, as if she understood what she was talking about. And Darla thought that maybe she did.

'I know. But the thing is... we're in big trouble. We need all the help we can get. And if you don't want to stay here, because of the whole 'end of the world' thing, or you don't want to see Buffy, it's alright. But, if you want, you could do us a little favour'.

Now Spike was also interested in the conversation. 'What kind of favour, Red?'

'Well, with Buffy we've been talking about it, and we've thought that we could need an extra Slayer'.

Obviously her words made sense to Spike, whose eyes widened and his lips formed an 'O', but to Darla it was incomprehensible. An extra Slayer? But if there was only one! The woman kept on talking, oblivious to Darla's astonishment.

'So, we thought of going to see her and ask her to join us, but all of us have our hands quite full right now. And then, Buffy wrote a letter for Faith, and asked me to give it to you, and you might go and give it to her, but you're needed here, and then I saw your friend, and I thought that maybe she could...'

'Ok, ok, got it' Darla cut her in. 'All you want me to do is to deliver a letter?'

Willow and Spike exchanged unfathomable glances.

'Well, yeah' She said. 'Here, this is the address', she added, handing her a piece of paper.

Darla took it and, when she read what was on the paper, she gasped:

'_She is in the freaking jail_!'

* * *

When Darla arrived, the time for visits was nearly over, however, when she said who she had come to see, the guard's cold attitude changed. She almost didn't bother to register her, and she hastened to take her to the visits' zone, with a look on her face Darla knew too well: fear. Well, whatever the crime she had been committed for was, there was no doubt that Faith the Rogue Slayer still scared the hell out of the people who surrounded her. And the Sunnydale gang wanted her on their side. Weren't they supposed to be the good ones? Then again, they had asked _her_, from all people, to help them. They were truly desperate.

She sat in the orange plastic chair and waited. She took a curious look at her surroundings – the last time she'd been in a prison it had been called 'dungeons'. She checked the security. Probably it was efficient enough for humans, but she calculated that two persons with superpowers could easily take them and flee before they knew what had hit them. As for the glass? Piece of cake.

Or at least she hoped so. Otherwise, Spike would have to look for a very deep hole to hide in...

At the other side of the glass, one of the guards appeared escorting a young woman fully dressed in blue. Most of the convicts and prisoners Darla had seen always looked down, with a perpetual expression of defeat, but not this one. Her head was up, and her gaze was fixed in some point beyond Darla and their surroundings. The guard walking by her side didn't dare to touch her or look at her straight in the eye, and the other convicts stepped aside when she passed by.

At first, when she'd seen her brown curls and her petite form, Darla hadn't been impressed. But now that she could see her eyes and the way she moved... Darla had been around long enough to notice which people was better not to mess up with.

_So, this is Faith, the Rogue Slayer._ She still found a little bit ridiculous the idea of a _Slayer_ – synonym of everything good and pure in this world – gone bad. _It's not as ridiculous as a bloodthristy vampire fighting the good fight_, she reflected.

The brunette sat down, with the grace and also the air of potential danger of a feline. She eyed Darla intently, raising an eyebrow. Obviously, she didn't get many visits.

Darla grabbed the phone, and so did she.

'You're not a fucking lawyer, are you? Have enough of those'.

Darla repressed a wry smile. From what Angel had once told her – back when she was human, and he was trying to show her she could do some good – Faith had had enough trouble with Wolfram and Hart back in the day. According to him, they'd tried to use her to get to him. _Join the club_.

'Do I look like a lawyer?'

Faith examined her outfit. There had been a time Darla had dressed only with the best of everything, when she hadn't cared about murdering the shop-assistants. Now, though, her clothes were a little bit more modest.

'Then who the hell are you? Social worker?'

This time, Darla couldn't hide her amusement.

'Certainly not. I don't know if Angel's mentioned my name' At the mention of the vampire, a fleeting look of sadness crossed Faith's features. 'I'm Darla'.

Faith showed no reaction.

'Oh. I knew it. He's always liked 'em blondie' She frowned. 'So what are you here for? You plannin' on kill Buffy 'cuz she stole your lover, or...?'

Darla raised an eyebrow. 'You've really been out of touch, haven't you?'

There was more surprise than anger in her voice. Obviously, no one had bothered to fill her in about the circumstances of her protector's death. Well, _she_ wasn't going to do so.

'Actually, I come from Sunnydale, with a message from the Slayer. I mean', she quickly corrected, 'a message from Buffy'.

The shock was evident on Faith's face.

'B wants to tell me something? And she's given _you_ the message? She gone mad or what?'

Darla shrugged. 'There was no one else available. Anyway, here it is'

She opened her purse and pulled out the envelope Willow had given her. She opened it, unfolded the single sheet of paper inside, and put it on the window, so Faith would be able to read it through the glass.

Her gaze scanned the letter's contents within a couple of minutes, then she nodded to indicate she'd finished. Darla folded the letter and put it in her purse again.

'So' Faith said 'you got a car right? Fast?'

'The fastest we could borrow. It'll do'.

Faith nodded. 'You're a vamp, aren't you? Working for the white hats, but still a vamp?'

Darla nodded and Faith looked satisfied with the answer.

'Ok. Well, this is the plan. Stand up slowly and move aside. Get ready for running like hell'.

Darla hung up the phone, mirroring Faith's actions, and rose from her seat. She took a couple of steps aside, as if she were just getting ready to leave... instead of mentally calculating distances and probabilities for their escape. She didn't have much time for planning, though.

Faith cartwheeled and hit the glass with her feet, smashing it. Before any of the guards could react, Faith headed towards the nearest window, with Darla right behind her, and jumped through the glass.

They fell, some seconds and two floors later, flat on their backs on top of a car, which alarm began ringing loudly. Driven by adrenaline, Darla jumped to her feet and stretched out a hand to help the Slayer. Faith grabbed it and let herself be pulled to her feet with a faint moan.

'Out of shape', she sighed. 'Where's the Batmobile?'

Darla pointed at the stolen car Spike'd got for her (seemed that the soul didn't bother him that much). 'It's the red one'.

'Predictable'.

They got to the car before the guards were able to react. However, by the time they had left the prison's parking lot, a police car began to follow them.

'Great', Darla said through gritted teeth. However, soon a grin curved her lips. She threw a quick glance at Faith. 'Wanna see how fast this can go?'

Faith's grin mirrored her own. 'Thelma & Louise, always a favorite'.

Darla's grin broadened.

'Hellmouth, here we go' She said, while she pressed the pedal until everything surrounding them turned into a blur.

* * *

By the time they were approaching Sunnydale, Faith seemed to have lost her old fondness of speed. In fact, her face had turned into a pale shade of green and she looked about to throw up her dinner.

'Can you slow down, girl? We've lost them'.

Darla checked the mirror once more to make sure they weren't being followed before slowing down a bit. Faith was staring at her, astonished.

'How did you learn to drive like that?'

Darla gave her a quick glance, then shrugged. 'You really don't wanna know. Besides, weren't Slayers supposed to be super resistant?'

Faith snorted. 'Sure. But we also got a stomach, see'.

Darla turned the car (a little too briskly for Faith's taste, judging from the way her face contracted) on Revello Drive, and too soon they were parked in front of the Slayer's house.

The silence between them seemed to thicken at the sight of the house. Both of them had good reasons not to want to see that place again.

Darla felt the already familiar pang of guilt when she was forcibly reminded of the time she'd gone there and bitten the Slayer's mother. Sure, she hadn't drank enough blood to kill her (Angel had interrupted her) but the thought didn't ease her consciense at all.

Faith, on the other hand, probably had her own share of past faults. She was avoiding to look at the house, as if she were afraid it would swallow her or something.

'So', Darla said, her voice somewhat hoarse, 'this is your stop. Nice to meet you and all'.

Faith turned to look at her, surprised. 'Aren't ya coming?'

She gave a small snort. 'I doubt the Slayer would like to see me'.

The brunetted shrugged. 'Me neither, so what?'

Darla sighed.

'My case is a little bit different. I tried to kill her mother'.

Faith looked pensive. 'Once I threatened to kill her with a knife, but B came crashing through the window'.

Not completely surprised, Darla added:

'I also allied with a guy who wanted to end the world and I tried to kill her'.

'Been there, done that'.

'And I tried to make Angel evil again'.

'Yep, that was me, too'.

_Now_ Darla was surprised. But like hell she was going to show it.

'And I was an soulles creature for four centuries, who killed thousands of innocent people, _and_ I slept with Angel, when he was already souled'.

She turned to look at the rogue Slayer, something akin to triumph gleaming in her eyes. Surely she couldn't beat that.

Faith, for once, looked a little bit impressed.

'Whoa, you screwed Angle? I tried. Didn't work. But I did kill a couple of people, thretened to do so to many more, and once managed to switch bodies with her and make her life a living hell. Must count for something'.

Darla turned to stare at Faith, her eyes widening in shock.

'What's _your_ problem?'

Faith shrugged. 'The shrink at jail said "traumatic childhood". You can think whatever you want'.

Silence fell upon them, and this time it felt even thicker. Now it was obvious to Darla that the ex-con had as many reasons as she had not to want to see the goody-two-shoes Slayer again.

Minutes passed in complete silence, both women staring dully right in front of them, not daring to glance at the house. Faith finally broke the silence.

'This sucks. Look, if you go into the house, I'll go with you'.

'But I haven't been invited'. The reply sounded lame to her own ears, but it was sort of true. Faith shrugged.

'Then go with me into the porch. Like hell I'm going in there alone'.

There was an edge to Faith's voice that hadn't been there when Darla had almost crashed the car a couple of times, a mixed note of fear and guilt that the vampire had begun to recognize. She glanced at the Slayer, and was surprised to see how much she looked like a scared child waiting to be punished. For the first time since they'd met, Darla was aware of how young Faith truly was, in spite of the hell she'd gone through. _I wonder if I looked like that when the Master found me_.

'Ok' She said, trying to sound careless. 'Let's go in there and see the Slayer. I bet she'll be waiting us with pastries'.

Faith snorted. 'If B gets anywhere near the oven, then we'll be in real trouble. C'mon, girlfriend. Let's get over this.'

They got off the car and climbed the porch's steps in silence. In spite of their bravado, they hesitated when they found themselves in front of the door. Finally, while muttering a 'what the hell' Faith put up the courage to knock.

They heard the sound of loud voices and hurried steps inside, and the door opened to reveal the form of Willow. Darla relaxed. Faith didn't.

Willow's eyes widened and she smiled.

'You did it!' She exclaimed, and Faith winced, Obviously this wasn't the greeting she had been waiting for. 'Come on, get in'.

The magical barrier was off, and the women took an insecure step inside.

'Wait here, I'll find Buffy'. Before any of them could protest, she left them alone. They stared at each other dully. Time was up.

As they waited, they saw at least a dozen of teenaged girls running around the house, shouting and giggling, carrying books and weapons, and paying no attention to any of them.

'What's this, a freaking school?'

'Sort of, luv'.

Spike had appeared out of nowhere. Faith tensed when she saw him, and Darla hurried to put her hand on her arm, stopping her movement. 'It's ok, he works for the Slayer now. He's got a soul now'.

Faith blinked. 'It's a fashion or what?'

Before any of them could answer, the Slayer – the original, blonde version one – appeared.

She no longer looked like the cheerleader she'd been. A few lines circled her eyes now, and she'd lost weight, making her to look skinny. Her hair was pulled in a tight ponytail, which made all her facial muscles to tense, and there was some rigidity in her movements now. Her eyes were shadowed, and she no longer looked like a carefree girl. She no longer _was_ a carefree girl.

'Hey, B, what's up?' Faith said, in a forcibly cheerful voice. 'Did you miss me?'

The Slayer looked at Faith and calmly said 'Faith. It's been a while'.

Then, without no further talking, she punched her on the face.

'Hey!', the brunette protested, grabbing her nose. Buffy turned to look at her.

'Darla' She said, in the same calm voice. The vampire raised her chin, ready for the punch... that never came. 'Spike and Willow told me about your soul. Congrats'

Buffy left them to chastise one of the teenagers, who had jumped down the stairs. Faith's jaw opened in disbelief.

'Hey, that's so not fair! She got as many reasons to punch you as she had to punch me!'

Darla shrugged. 'What can I say? I'm prettier'.

However, Darla was shocked at the Slayer's treatment. Sure, it had been a long time since she'd tried to kill her and her mother, but she'd thought there'd still be some resentment. Guessing what she was thinking, Spike said:

'I told her to go easy on you'.

Darla turned to face him. 'Seems like you're one of the team'.

'Sort of'.

They both shifted, somewhat uncomfortable.

'Well, I guess I should get going'.

Spike looked surprised. 'What? You aren't staying?'

She frowned. 'Why would I stay here?'

It wasn't Spike who replied, but Buffy, who'd returned without them noticing.

'Cos we could use an extra hand. That if you can bear the pressence of twenty teenagers in the house'.

Darla's eyes widened in shock, but a voice was heard from upstairs calling Buffy, so the Slayer disappeared once more. When she regained some composure, she turned to face Spike.

'Did she really mean it?'

Spike nodded. 'Sure she did. We're kind of desperate, in case you haven't noticed'. Before Darla could open her mouth, he added. 'As for the kid, I'm sure he's in a safe place. But things, see, are getting really out of hand here – and I'm sure you've guessed that if there's an Armaggedon, it'll affect him wherever he is. If you stay, we'll have more chances of stopping it. Superpowers kind of come in handy'.

Darla reflected on it. Spike had a point (who'd thought that could be possible?): if things went wrong in Sunnydale, then it'd be pointless for her to find Connor. He'd die anyway. She shuddered at the thought.

On the other hand, she hadn't a clue of where Connor was. It could take her ages to find him, while in Sunnydale things went to hell. What difference would it make to stay a while at the Hellmouth before starting to look for him? And it wasn't like she'd felt anything wrong with her son lately. He was probably safe, wherever he was. He wouldn't need her pressence right now.

And finally, here was the chance to show Wesley and everybody else, including herself, that she hadn't just gotten back her soul for nothing. This was the chance to show that she could be useful to others.

And of course, there was Faith's reasoning:

'C'mon, Blondie. There's gonna be loads of fun. An Apocalypsys is always quite an event around here'.

* * *

Sorry guys for all the time I took to update this, I hope the length of this episode makes up for it. And don't miss the next one: things in Sunnydale start getting out of hand and chaos ensues...

**Imzadi:** I hope you aren't so disappointed that Lindsey didn't show up here yet. He'll make an appearance, but you'll have to wait for it a while. However, don't keep your hopes too high: this story, although it migh contain some Darla/Lindsey, was never intended to have that as a central theme, so his appearance won't probably last many episodes. But I'll try to make them worth the wait!

**chunky-01:** Hope you've enjoyed this one too, and keep reading!


	7. Episode 7

**Episode 7:**

'_When you feel all alone_

_And the world has turned its back on you_

_Give me a moment please to tame your wild wild heart_

_I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you_

_It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold_

_When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't take anymore'_

_**- 'Crash and Burn', by Savage Garden - **_

'So what happened to that lawyer? The one that fancied you?'

Darla rolled her eyes at Spike's tone. He sounded like an old lady from the eighteenth century.

The three of them were at the basement, in a futile attempt to get a way from the hyper teens upstairs. Faith and Spike were smoking, sitting on his bed next to the chains (the ones that had provoked some colorful comments from Faith), and Darla sat on the table that was in front of them, an empty glass, once full of whiskey, next to her.

'I'm not sure. It seemed like he found a consciense and fled'. A part of Darla (the smae one that felt the pang of guilt for all she'd done to him) was glad he'd managed to get away from Wolfram and Hart. Another part of her wondered whether it hadn't been a terribly foolish thing to do, not to say suicidal.

'Looks like you made quite an impression on him, Blondie', Faith commented. 'Doubt I've done the same with any of the guys I fucked'.

'Let's not talk about screwed up love lives, or Spike will bore us to death with his'.

Both women sniggered as Spike glared. 'Yeah, go ahead, _laugh_. Bloody bints...'

This wasn't the first time they spent time together. Actually, it had became almost a habit hiding into the basement to have a chat, smoke or drain a whisky bottle...or all three at once.

Darla found amazing the amount of things the three of them had in common, which she'd never believed possible. After all, it was about a Slayer and Spike she was talking about. What could she have in common with any of them. And yet, she did.

They spent hours talking about how annoying the army of Potentials could be, laughing at Andrew's newest docummental and chatting about another dozen everyday things. Sometimes, though, the ventured into deeper waters. Then they talked about their past faults, screwed up love lives, what they would do when everything were over (ignoring the eternal question of whether they would live enough to do any of those things) and the struggle to keep on the good path. And sometimes they spoke about Angel.

It was a relief to be able to talk about the deceased vampire freely. In the upstairs world, as they called it, no one dared to pronounce Angel's name because of Buffy. Darla found this very unfair to Faith, whom the loss of Angel had affected more than she let on. After all, Buffy had always had a lot of people by her side. She still got a lot of friends to upport her, whereas Faith had lost the only friend she ever had.

So Spike and Darla shared their memories of Angel, and Faith drank every word they said, and she memorized every detail, every piece of the puzzle Angel was. Darla thought it was kind of funny – and also kind of sad – how the one of them who was affected the most by Angel's death was the one who had treated him the less.

Unexpectedly, in the short time they'd spent together lately, they'd became a source of support for each other. And like hell they needed support: Darla beared with the absence of her child and the uncertainty of where he was; Faith had to face her victims daily and endure feeling left out all over again; and Spike was putting up with his every day more evidently unrequited love for the golden Slayer.

Speaking of the devil, a sound of hurried footsteps was heard on the stairs, and the figure of Buffy Summers appeared in the basement. Her brow furrowed when she saw Faith and Spike's position.

'Well, it's nice to see you two getting along so well', she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Darla looked at her, amused. Spike and Faith, on the other hand, straightened up and moved some inches away from each other.

Buffy still looked grumpy. Darla wondered whether it wasn't a little late for pulling the jealous girlfriend act, after they way she'd treated Spike recently. She shooh her head. It was none of her damned business.

Buffy finally stopped glaring at Spike long enough to notice Darla was there too.

'Oh, Darla, I didn't see you'. _Why doesn't it surprise me?_ 'I got some news from LA that might interest you...' A knot formed in Darla's throat. '...and perhaps you too, Faith'. The knot disappeared. Obviouly they weren't news about Connor.

'Spill it, B'.

Buffy looked annoyed once more at the addressing but, like always, she chose to ignore it.

'Wesley called. Wolfram and Hart's been destroyed, or at least its LA branch'.

Both Faith and Darla jumped from their seats.

'How?'

'Why?'

'Who did it?'

Buffy looked deflated. 'Well, that's the part that's not so good news. Seems like The First did it'.

Faith's eyes widened as Darla frowned. 'Why would The First do that? It's not like they weren't evil enough'.

Buffy shrugged. 'Probably The First didn't want competence. Anyway, Wesley's said he might have found something that could help us, but he has to do some research first...'

'Buffy, are you down there?' Dawn's voice came from upstairs. Buffy looked resigned.

'Yeah, Dawnie?'

The girl's face was seen on the doorway.

'Willow's on the phone. Seems like another potential arrived...and was attacked'.

* * *

Things were so not supposed to be like this. The vineyard excursion had ended up in disaster, and now the white hats were in disarray, after several of its members had been unmercifully slaughtered.

Darla shivered at the memory. She had been so close to save one of the girls (Molly, Molly had been her name), so damned close... And then one of thos Bringers had stabbed her in the stomach. She'd fallen on her knees, seeing helpleesly the look of terror on the young girl's face as the Preacher snapped her neck, the look of defeat in the Slayers eyes as she arrived too late... Darla had killed thousands, and yet the face of that only girls haunted her more than all her victims put together.

And then, chaos had ensued. The Slayer's very best friends had ruled her out, crowning Faith as queen of damned hellmouth instead. Darla didn't know what to think anymore.

She'd believed that having a soul would make things much easier, only that it didn't. It made them even more confusing. The good guys didn't know what to do, the golden Slayer had been kicked out of her own house, and Spike, who was supposed to be some sort of guide to Darla through all this mayhem, had gone with her.

Things had been supposed to be easier than this. She had to fight the good fight, with Spike's aid, and follow the Slayer. What no one had told her was that she'd have to choose which Slayer to follow, and there was dissension in the good guys' ranks, whereas their enemy got stronger. Before she had a soul, things had been very simple: the only thing she had to do was to be evil. Now, though, she realised she had to make some choices...and that if she picked up the wrong one she'd be the only one to blame.

As she was dwelling in those somber thoughts, she saw Faith approaching her. The dark Slayer looked a little down lately, all her usual cockiness gone. To Darla, it looked like the burden Buffy used to carry had moved onto Faith's shoulders, who was finally seeing what the phrase 'the weight of the world' truly meant.

Faith stood next to her, and several moments passed in silence. Finally, she seemed to put up the courage to whisper:

'I'm not sure I can do this'.

Darla stared at her, and decided that the woman didn't need to hear her worries. Instead, she tried to ease her anxiety.

'Why not, Faith? You're as much of a Slayer as Buffy is. You've been made the same way, the same power runs through your veins.'

Faith snorted. 'We both know that I'm not _her_.'

_Never spoken a truer word, Faith._

'They chose you over her, Faith. That has to mean something'.

Faith shrugged. 'Yeah, I s'pose so', she said, not sounding altogether reassured.

In that moment, Giles poped out his head from behind the door.

'Faith, we need you here'.

Darla gave her one last reassuring look, at which Faith responded with a faint smile. Darla watched her walk a way, a knot forming in her stomach. How would Faith defeat The First when she didn't trust herself?

_Who will come to our rescue now, if the Slayer's lost?_

As if it had been an answer to her thoughts, the doorbell rang. Seeing that no one was going to answer, Darla walked towards the door and opened it herself...and froze.

Standing in the porch, Darla saw Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, escorted by the brown-eyed girl, Fred; the dark, bald man, and the green demon guy in way too bright clothes.

'Cavalry is here...' Wesley's smile faded when he saw her, his eyes widening only slightly. After all, Buffy had warned him of her pressence there.

Darla leaned against the doorframe and suveyed them with curiosity. Wesley was carrying a small, ancient-looking box with runes written all over it. Was that what would help them defeat The First?

Wesley finally seemed to get over his intial shock, as he said, in a even voice:

'Hello, Darla'. He looked past her. 'Is Buffy at the house? We have something to show her'.

Darla raised an eyebrow and chuckled humorlessly.

'Funny that you asked that...'

* * *

Everything was eerily quiet around them. Well, apart from the Potentials, who were physically uncapable of remaining silent. She could see Gunn's scowl in the dark. Probably the tough streetfighter wasn't used to dealing with teenaged girls.

Darla frowned, scrutizing the shadows, but she couldn't find anything suspicious. Which was starting to get suspicious by now. She exchanged a look with Faith, and saw the same doubt in her eyes. Where were The First's lackeys? If this arsenal was so important, why was it abandoned?

One of the girls (Vi, Darla thought her name was) voiced this doubt out loud...and it was soon answered when eight Bringers came from the ceiling and attacked them.

The fight was short. This time, the girls stood their own ground much better than at the vineyard. Perhaps they were finally learning... Or perhaps, Darla thought depressingly, all the weak fighters had already been killed.

Either way, it was soon over, but this only made Darla's uneasiness to increase. When she exchanged looks with Faith and Gunn, she realised she wasn't the only one who was having second thoughts. It was too easy. The three of them had dealt with dark forces, one way or another, to learn that these things were never supposed to be easy. What was The First – who'd always been two steps ahead them – playing at?

The girls, led by Faith, walked further down the tunnel. Gunn followed them, and Darla was the last one in the line, checking that nothing would attack them from behind.

Darla was too far to see the wooden box, and from this distance the beeping sounded too distant, even for her supernatural hearing. So she remained clueless like the rest about what was truly going on until Faith opened Pandora's box and they heard her desperate scream:

'Everybody get down!'

And then, a loud explosion engulfed any other sounds, and everything around Darla turned black when a chunk form the ceiling crashed onto her head.

* * *

When she woke up, the pain was blinding. It took her a moment to get used to it and managed to focus her sight on something solid. The couch. She had seen that couch before. At the Summers' living room. How had she gotten to the Summers' place?

A black, bald man walked past her and she grabbed his leg. He turned to face her, lying on the floor, and a little confused she saw he wasn't Gunn. Wood. It was Wood.

'The girls...What happened to the girls?'

He kneeled next to her and prevented her from getting up.

'A few dead, many injured. Willow's taking care of them'.

Darla gritted her teeth, trying to overcome the sudden pang of pain.

'Gunn...Faith...?'

'Gunn's got a broken arm, nothing worse. And Faith...' A look of worry sombered his face. He tried to wipe it, unsuccesfully. 'Willow says she'll be alright. Now I gotta go'.

He walked away from her, and Darla distinguished several forms lying on the floor, covered in blankets, and her nostrils were filled with the smell of blood whereas screaming and crying reached her ears. She saw Willow, Xander, Andrew and Anya rushing to take care of the injured ones. Then, everything started to get dizzy again, as another pang of pain overcame her.

Before she knew it, she had slipped into unconsciousness once more.

* * *

**Imzadi:** Hope you liked the Darla/Faith/Spike interaction in this chapter. I think they've got more in common than it appears. And once the whole Apocalypse and finding Connor are over, I think Darla will have some time to reflect on past faults and in certain someone. Keep reading to find out!

**urbanstonerrock:** I'm glad you've liked this, and that you think it's well written, especially as English isn't my mother tongue. I also think that Darla is an excellent character to write about, there's some much depth in her, so many different sides of her personality. Tell me what you think about her interaction with the Scoobies.

_Next, in 'Ain't So Far Down': The final battle with the First Evil arrives, and Sunnydale slips into Hell, as the world changes forever..._


	8. Episode 8

**Episode 8:**

'_And then a hero comes along_

_With the strength to carry on_

_And you cast your fears aside_

_And you know you can survive_

_So when you feel like hope is gone_

_Look inside you and be strong_

_And you'll finally see the truth_

_That a hero lies in you'_

_**- 'Hero', by Mariah Carey - **_

An unusual silence had fallen over Revello Drive. The Potentials were all upstairs, doing only God knew what, and Buffy's friends were at the dining room. As for Buffy, she'd gone sanctuary hunting with her brand-new axe. Faith was still in the Slayer's bedroom, getting some rest, while Spike was nowhere to be seen. He'd probably gone outside. Sometimes, staying inside the house could prove to be too much.

Darla headed to the kitchen, in desperate need of a mug of coffee. One of the worst things to live in a phantom town was that there was no Starbucks.

When she entered the kitchen, she saw that the former LA gang – except for Lorne – was already there. She froze at the doorframe, and they fell silent as soon as they saw her. Holding her head high, she walked towards the coffee machine, poured some black liquid in a mug, and turn around to leave.

'Y-You don't have to leave i-if you don't want to', Fred's stuttering voice came from behind her. Surprised, Darla turned to face her. So did Gunn and Wesley. Fred, shifting uncomfortably now she had all eyes fixed on her, added. 'I mean, you're one of us now, aren't you?'

Darla stared at her, temporary speechless, something that didn't use to happen to her a lot back in the day. Finally she found her voice, and managed to mutter a 'thanks, Fred', as she took a seat. Fred gave her a shy smile, and turned to watch Gunn, who resumed the polishing of an axe. Wesley, on the other hand, buried himself in a large pile of dusty books. She studied the covers, some of them in Latin or Greek, some in languages she'd never heard of before.

'Researching about the medallion?'

Wesley looked up, mildly surprised. 'Oh, yes. It can turn out to be a great source of help for us, if we use it well.'

'But will it be enough to defeat The First?'

Everyone turned to face Fred yet again. Wesley seemed to ponder the question.

'Well...no', he admitted, 'but don't worry, Winnifred. Buffy'll come out with something. She's done this before'.

Fred tried to look reassured. 'Sure she will. I mean, she's the Slayer. Never been defeated and all'.

''Cept when she snuffed it', Gunn muttered. Fred's eyes widened and she turned to face Wesley, suddenly not looking so calm.

'Is that true? Was she defeated before?'

This time wasn't Wesley who answered, but Darla.

'Death doesn't necessarily equal defeat.'

Wesley looked at her, thoughtfully. Fred seemed to reflect on her words.

'Well, I guess in some cases it doesn't. But it's not very comforting, is it? I mean, sure, the most important thing here is to save the world and all, but I'd prefer to do that and live to tell the tale, you know. Sorry', she added, seeing the looks on their faces. 'It's just that I'm nervous, you know. Sounds silly, but it's kinda my first Apocalypsys. I've never seen something like this before.'

She let out a nervous, humorless chuckle. 'I suppose you don't have that problem, do you?', she asked Darla, who winced.

How could she explain to this girl – not a girl anymore really, but they all looked so young in her eyes – the terror she felt, not for her life, but for her child's? How could she explain to Fred that she'd never been this scared in four centuries in spite of all the horrors she'd faced?

'It's true that this is not the first Apocalypsys I face', Darla said slowly, 'but it's the first time I have something I care for. Something I could lose. And that thought terrifies me more than a dozen deaths'.

Silence fell upon them after Darla's words. Fred looked a little taken aback; Gunn had put aside his axe to stare at her and Wesley was pensive again, a shadow in his blue eyes. In that moment, the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway, they saw a radiant Anya. They all exchanged shocked looks. There weren't many reasons to feel happy lately around here.

'Buffy's finished that Caleb jerk off. Split the basrtard in two'. She grinned as she walked towards the fridge, grabbed another pack of ice (hadn't she already taken one for Xander?) and left. It took them a few moments to react.

'Caleb's gone?', Fred whispered, a look of awe on her face. Gunn smiled at her.

'C'mon, babe. This's a tale I wanna hear firs' hand'.

He took her hand and they both exited the kitchen, nearly running. Darla kept staring at the door, a wave of relief washing over her. Caleb was gone. The Slayer had killed him. She had killed The First's very right hand. That meant they still had a chance, didn't it?

She heard Wesley shifting on his seat, and waited for him to speak first. She didn't have to wait long.

'Darla'. She turned to face him. It was one of those rare times he looked at her in the eye. 'You know he's in a safe place. We made sure of that'.

Darla nodded. She'd expected no less. That didn't mean, though, that she'd stop having those dreadful nightmares in which she saw her son dead, not until The First was defeated at last.

Wesley seemed to be facing some kind of inner struggle. Finally, he took a gulp of air and stated:

'When all this is over, given all you've done, I thought that maybe you...'

Willow poped her head into the kitchen.

'Wes, Buffy wanna see you. She wants to hear how that amulet works'.

He glanced briefly at Darla, who nodded. There would be plenty of time to have this conversation later. And if there wasn't a later...

Well, then it didn't matter much what Wesley could say, did it?

* * *

As she sat down on the bed, a distinct smell filled her nostrils. Raising an eyebrow, she shot Spike a quizzical look. He snorted.

'Not what y'think, luv. There's been none of that in a long while'. He shrugged. 'S'pose she needed somewhere to crash, as Wild One's still in her bedroom'.

Darla would have liked to say that Spike didn't have to explain anything to her, really; it was nothing of her damned business. She didn't, though. Instead, she reflected about the Slayer's and Spike's troubled relationship. Were they ever going to sort it out? Darla hoped they did before The First came to pick them one by one. But, as she saw Spike's somber look, she decided not to hold her hopes very high.

There was a reason, though, she'd came downstairs, and it wasn't to figure out Spike's complicated love life. A major Scoobie meeting was taking place at Buffy's bedroom as they spoke. She hadn't been invited, of course (the only non-Scoobies invited were Faith and Wesley), but to her surprise Spike wasn't up there either. When had he fallen from grace?

As she was trying to figure out how to ask that politely, Spike commented:

'Big stuff's going on, luv'.

Darla straightened up. 'You know about that?'

Spike raised an eyebrow. ''Course. Buffy filled me in last night'.

She would have liked to slap herself for her stupidity. How hadn't she figured that one out?

'Don't worry, she gonna fill everyone else in soon. Could give you the heads up, though. If you want'.

Darla glared at him, feeling a sudden urge to smack him. Of course she wanted to know what was going on!

'Spill the beans, Spike'.

He smirked, and she could see his delight at knowing something she didn't – their old rivalry wasn't completely gone yet – but soon his look became serious.

'First was here las' night'.

Darla's eyes widened slightly. The First had showed to her only once, in the form of Daniel Holtz, but it had been an experience she wasn't likely to forget anytime soon.

Without any more pauses, Spike proceeded to tell her the Slayer's conversation with The First, and then, to explain her audacious plan. Darla's face clearly showed the wide rage of emotions that overcame her as Spike's words sank in: curiosity, shock, disbelief and, finally, awe.

'An army of Slayers? That is... incredibly bright'.

Spike frowned. 'Implyin' Buffy's not bright?'

Darla rolled her eyes.

'Sorry if it ruins your image of me, but the truth is this Slayer never came across me as a particularly bright person. I'm glad to say I was wrong'.

He had what Darla soon identified as a love sick look on his face, alike the one he used to have whenever Drusilla was around. It was a terrifying deja vu.

'She's not bright. She's _effulgent_.'

At Darla's clearly revolted look, Spike burst into laughing.

* * *

'So here's the part where you make a choice. What if you could have that power… now?'

Darla's gaze scrutinized the faces of the girls surrounding her as Buffy spoke. There was doubt, and fear, and distrust on those faces. This was going to be hard, even for the invincible Slayer.

But at least she'd caught their attention. Now the Potentials, after exchanging questioning looks, had their eyes fixed on Buffy. She noticed it too, and used it to her advantage.

'So I say we change the rule. I say my power should be our power.'

The looks on their face show surprise, curiosity...and could it be the faintest hint of hope, or is Darla seeing too much?

'From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer.'

Darla exchanged a look with Faith, and saw the expectation and the excitation in her eyes. She was doing it. Buffy was getting to them.

'Every girl who could have the power, will have the power.'

Excitation shone in the girls' eyes too, as soon as they realised, one by one, what Buffy's words meant. And Darla saw something else in her eyes, something she'd never seen since she'd arrived at Revello Drive.

Hope. And that hope would save them all.

'Slayers… every one of us. Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?'

At the end of Buffy's speech, it was no longer hope what shone in the girls' eyes.

It was resolve. For the first time, the girls didn't hope they'd win...they knew they would.

The sensation was contagious. Darla felt it in waves. As she saw the girls cheering and clapping, she realised the hardest part of Buffy's plan had already been put in motion.

The First had never stood a chance.

* * *

In spite of her earlier feelings, when Darla followed Buffy and the others through the open seal, she felt her confidence, if not fading, at least wavering a little.

After the civilians had set off to their respective spots, in smaller teams (Willow and Kennedy to the Principal's office; Xander, Dawn and Wesley; Anya, Andrew, Fred and Lorne – who now regretted having returned from his short exile in Las Vegas; Giles, Wood and Gunn), they headed to the basement. Darla could see the anxiety in every face, she could feel the waves of apprehension coming from the girls, hear their hearts pounding in their chests. When they performed the blood ritual, many of the young hands shaked, and it was in that moment when the first doubt popped into her mind. These were just girls. Most of them hadn't seen a vampire before they got to Sunnydale. They were young, and unexperienced, and scared. They weren't an army...but they were going to face horrors that even the toughest vampires dreaded. Had the Slayer gone mental? How could she think that these bunch of schoolgirls could save the world?

She wiped those thoughts from her mind. She followed Spike and the others down to the antechamber of hell, a mask of cool resolve on her face. If they had to inspire courage on those girls, she wouldn't be the one to show panic.

When she walked to the edge of the endless, darkening pit, though, her mask wavered a little. The scene below reminded her a little too much of Tolkien's descriptions of Mordor and Sauron's demoniacal servants. Except these were for real. To her horror, she saw many – far too many – Turok-hans. A whole legion of them.

As an ancient vampire, Darla had been taught to fear the mythical Turok-hans more than sunlight and God himself. Even The Master, who'd once faced a couple of them on his own, was terrified at the mention of the name. It was something beyond rationality or reason. Vampires just ran away from the powerful Turok-hans, the same way they ran away from sunrise.

_No reason to fret, girl. Buffy dusted one of them on her own. And a bunch of these frightened girls did the same. You have lived four hundred years. You are tougher than this._

Then, a hideous realisation hit her with the strength of a blow, and she let out a low, hysterical laughter. Faith turned to glance at her, a questioning look in her eyes.

'It's just I've remembered a little detail', she said, still letting out hysterical chuckles. 'See, I'm a lousy fighter. I've always preferred making somebody fight for me'.

Faith raised her eyebrows and took a look around, at the frightened faces surrounding them.

'Well, you ain't getting none of that here. But', she added, giving her a friendly pat on her arm, 'don't worry, Thelma. Superpowers, remember?'

Before Darla could answer, Buffy's voice reached their ears:

'I'm not worried. As long as Willow can work her spell before they –'

Far below, the Turok-han army went silent as they all turned as one and looked up, directly at Buffy and the potentials.

'– see us.'

The Slayer's confident facade seemed to waver when the horde of raging Turok-han charged against them, raising their weapons and showing their large, unnatural teeth...

And then, the miracle happened.

* * *

Punch, swing, slash, swirl, kick, duck, punch again. The basics, which Darla had been taught by The Master himself four centuries ago, were still there. She moved with grace, finishing her opponents one by one, and swiling round to face the next one. She didn't fight with the cool precision of Buffy, neither with Faith's and Spike's passion or the Potentials' – no, not Potentials: new Slayers – excitement, but everyone of her blows hit home, and her sword swung in the air, beheading the demons one by one.

One of the girls let out a cry of pain, and Darla swirled round. A Turok-han had cornered a black girl, and hit her already broken arm, making her to drop her weapon. Darla launched herself forward, her sword high, and in one smooth movement the blade had gone through the demon's neck.

'Thanks', the girl mumbled, a look of temporary relief on her face as she picked up her weapon. Darla gave her a smile and turned around, only to see one of the girls dropped dead at her feet.

The shock of seeing life abruptly leaving the familiar features paralysed her a second... but a seond was more than enough in the raging battle: she felt a burning pain on her arm, and soon blood stained her sleeve and red drops tainted the floor. Without hesitation, she swirled and kicked her opponent, which only slowed it a bit before the demon attacked her again. But this time she was ready, and the struggle didn't last long.

Before she realised it, the number of enemies had decreased considerably. In other words, _they were winning_. Darla took only an instant to watch it all: The black girl she'd saved before, slashed a vampire with the scythe and tossed it back to Buffy, who whipped it a round in a semicircle arc, decpitating half a dozen Turok-hans, and throwing several others over the precipice. A red-haired Potential thrust her stake into one of the vampires' abdomen, piroutted and before the explosion of dust took place, she brought her stake down another vampire's neck. Willow's girlfriend kicked one of them and sent it reeling, then launched forward and decapitated other with her sword. Faith was fighting with all her fierceness, and Spike...

Oh, no, _no_.

'Spike!', she cried out, and ran towards him, ducking an instant to avoid a blow. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of Buffy turning around, a shocked expression forming on her face. Darla slashed her opponent with one quick jab, and launched forward. Buffy, who had broken into a desperate race, got there first.

'Spike! What's going...?'

There was no need to end the question: The amulet hanging from Spike's neck had turned blindingly white, and a bolt of light elevated from his chest and into the ceiling. Before Buffy's and Darla's startled eyes, Spike was surrounded by a glowing ring of orange light, and after a few seconds he began to glow, too. As if he were burning from the inside out.

As they watched, unable to move, the medallion burst into life, flaming. Pure solar energy radiated from it, setting the closest Turok-hans on fire, and Darla had to jump backwards and cover her eyes.

The ground shaked under her feet, nearly making her to fall. She leaned against a wall, then jumped when she felt it trembling too. She heard the remaining vampires screaming in agony as the flames annihilated them, and then the sound of crashing covered every other sound. She looked up, and saw chunks of the ceiling falling to the ground. She jumped aside just in time to avoid a rock, which crashed right in the spot she'd been standing.

She glimpsed Faith, gesturing the girls to get out, and saw her running to the stairs. Then, for a moment, the vision was blurred by a cloud of dust and Darla saw nothing.

'Spike! Buffy! We gotta get out, now!'

They didn't seem to listen, though. Buffy had grabbed Spike's hand, and for a moment they seemed pretty unaware of the world collapsing around them. Even from the distance and the crashing around them, their voices reached her:

'Go on, then'.

'No, you've done enough! Tou could still –'

'No, you've beaten them back. It's for me to do the cleanup.'

She heard Faith calling after them one last time, Darla turned a second and saw her cast one last desperate look at them, and then turning around and racing up the staricase. Darla turned and looked again at Spike, who was now glowing in a blinding, flaming light.

_Oh, no. He can't be this moronic._

She strided towards the circle of light, covering her eyes with her sane arm. She had to jump aside every now and then to avoid the falling chunks of the roof, and only her supernatural balance prevented her from tripping over with the ground shaking furiously beneath her.

In few seconds, she was standing right in front of Spike. The light was burning her eyes, and she could feel the flaming warmth on her skin, but the didn't back.

'Cut the crap, Spike. Pryce made clear enough you hadn't to turn into an unliving pire'.

Still covering her eyes, she stretched out her other arm, and a pang of pain ran through it as she realised it was the injured one. She didn't hesitate, though. Her arm entered the circle of light, and her fingers closed arounf the blazing medallion. She could feel it burning down her skin, she could feel it crack and peel, but she didn't let it go. At Spike's shocked face, she tore the chain, swirled around and threw the amulet down to the precipice.

She finally let out a cry of pain as her now half-burnt arm fell, useless, to her side, and she felt Spike collapsing next to her. The amulet exploded in midair, its bolting light blinding them for an instant. Buffy was the first to react.

'Quick!'

She bent and put an arm around the now unconscious Spike, pulling him up.

'Darla! Help!'

She blinked, trying to regain what was left of her eyesight. She stretched her sane arm (she wouldn't have been able to move the injured one even though she'd wished to) and surrounded Spike's waist.

Trying to run as fast as they could, and nearly stumbling down with every step they took, they rushed to the stairs, as the walls collapsed around them, burying them in explosions of dust.

Buffy and Darla dragged Spike all the way upstairs, and then they broke into a run as soon as they reached the hallway. They had to jump over piles of corpses – Darla incoherently prayed so they would be all demoniac – and carry Spike, but adrenaline was running through their veins, so they launched themselves forwards, with only one thought in their minds: to get out.

The noise of crashing and breaking seemed to deafen even their thoughts, and their nostrils and mouths were filled with dust. Half of the ceiling had already fallen around them, the walls were stumbling down, and the very ground under their feet seemed to be about to disappear, as a supernatural, bursting force seemed to shake the world around them.

When they were reaching the front door, an explosion took place right behind them, throwing them out of the building. The sky was temporary obscured by dust, clouding the rays of sunlight. This was fortunate: if it hadn't been for it, Darla and Spike would have never made it. They still had great chances of _not_ making it, specially if they didn't move fast.

Darla pulled herself to her feet, and grabbed Spike by the arm. Buffy did the same, as her eyes, like Darla's, went to the back of the yellow bus, that was already too far away from them. A knot formed in Darla's throat. It couldn't be. Not after all they had gone through...

'The car!', Buffy shouted, pointing at it. She turned to face Darla. 'Can you start it without the keys?'

Darla would have like to raise her eyebrows sarcastically (how did the Slayer thought she and Spike had borrowed the car used to free Faith?) but she had no time to waste. She nodded, and they both ran to the car, dragging Spike's immobile body.

Buffy grabbed the door and broke it, sending it flying. She jumped into the car, as Darla threw Spike to the back seat. She got inside, too, but kneeled to reach the cables she needed.

The engine didn't seem to be willing to start. Only God knew how long it had been parked – abandoned, more likely – in front of the school. Hell, probably that was the reason it had been left behind: the fucking car didn't work anymore. That was incredibly funny: they had survived Caleb, The First, a legion of Turok-hans, a collapsing school (besides the thee times she'd already died)...and they got to die in a broken car. It was damned amusing.

A familiar, beatific roaring sound was heard, as the engine finally burst into life.

'Drive!'

Buffy blinked, and it was the first time Darla saw her on the edge of hysteria.

'I don't drive!'

Darla, still on the car's floor, carefully avoiding the rays of light, stared at her blankly. Okay, this was even more amusing than she'd first thought.

'I'll take care of the pedals, just handle the wheel'.

Darla pushed the accelerator as hard as she could, and the car raced forward, drivling. Buffy let out ocassional yelps when they were too close to hit something, then she would spun the wheel and narrowly miss the obstacle. Darla, though, didn't slowed down. The damned city was collapsing under them, and like hell she would stay around long enough to end up in the damned hellmouth's crater. Her old instinct of survival had awakened, after it had seemed to abandon her. For the first time since she'd accepted to join the mad Spike and all the other equally mental army of white hats, she'd dared to think about what could come after this was over, and Wesley's words had drawn a picture where she and Connor could be together... Like hell she was going to lose it all.

Although Darla, who had her head between Buffy's feet, couldn't see it, they were finally catching up with the yellow bus. None of them – after all, Buffy's eyes were glued to the road ahead – saw one of the former Potentials flinch and point at the window, neither did they see Dawn throwing herself to the window and hitting it with her hands, or Buffy's friends popping out behind her. Perhaps it was lucky they didn't, because it was vital for them that Buffy didn't get distracted: Darla wouldn't release the pedal a mere inch, and the unexperienced Slayer was having a hell of trouble to keep the car going straight.

When the bus stopped in front of them, though, Buffy was forced to take notice. It was already too late to let go the pedal, so she turned the wheel as much as she could, which nearly made the car to cartwheel. It whirled 180°, as Buffy hit her head with the glass and Darla hit hers against the floor, so hard that she nearly fell unconscious.

'Buffy! Buffy!'

Dawn's cry pierced their ears, as the door next to the Slayer broke open – Darla hid her face to avoid the sun – and Xander's arms pulled Buffy out of the car. Darla caught a glimpse of Buffy being surrounded by her friends, before they walked away. Her muscles relaxed. It was over.

Spike stirred and opened an eye. He blinked before he realised where he was, and fixed his haunted gaze on her.

'We did it?'

Darla forced a smile.

'No, Spike. You did it'.

A poor imitation of a grin curved his lips, and suddenly Darla found herself laughing.

It was over. The First Evil, and all it involved, had been destroyed. The Hellmouth had been erased from earth. They had won.

At last, they were free.

* * *

**Imzadi: **Here comes AI to save the day! Well, sort of. As you can see, Willow and Spike did most of the saving thing. I expect you didn't have trouble in this chapter although you didn't see 'Chosen', I tried to make a recap of the episode, with all the necessary changes, of course. I'm glad you liked the Faith/Darla/Spike bit, as I enjoyed writing it. Keep up reading: next episode, Darla tries to get a normal life...as normal as it can get for a four hundred-year-old single mother.


	9. Episode 9

**Imzadi:** Yep, Darla saved Spike after all, and perhaps even saved the day. Who would have guessed it? In this episode you'll finally find out whether she managed to convince them of her right to see her son or not...

**Samster the Hamster:** Thanks a lot for your review! I'm glad you've liked it.

_Sorry, sorry I didn't update this sooner, but I had a lot of things going on lately. Hope you all like this.

* * *

_

**Episode 9:**

'_Our house, in the middle of our street_

_Our house, in the middle of our ..._

_Something tells you that you've got to get away from it'_

_**- 'Our House', by Madness - **_

Darla laughed, more out of politeness than anything else, at one of Darryl's bad jokes. The fat, greasy man didn't seem to notice, though. The pan in front of him had caught all his attention.

'These chips're ready in a sec.'

French fries chips. Chips crisps. Definately it had been a long time since the last time she'd been in England.

She nodded, relieved. She really needed to get out of the kitchen. The increasing heat had covered her hair and skin with a thin layer of sweat, and she was certain that the smell would remain on her clothes long after she'd left the dinner.

A blur of green and white passed past them, accompanied by the distinct sound of sobbing. Both Darla and Darryl looked up, and saw one of the youngest waitresses sitting on a box, her hands hiding her face. Darla felt Darryl's elbow on her ribs.

'Go.' At her puzzled look, he rolled his eyes. 'You're a girl. Do girl talk. Ask her what's wrong.'

Darla refrained the urge to snort. From what she'd seen lately, most of these girls didn't need a good reason to burst in tears. Usually, bad grades or a guy that didn't look at them were more than enough to start the drama act. _And I used to complain about the Potentials._

She approached the sobbing girl, though, and forced a sympathetic smile.

'What's wrong, dear,' she asked in what she hoped it were dulcet tones, like the ones she used with Connor. The girl stopped sobbing long enough to look up, with big, reddish eyes. Darla recognized at once the perpetually fearful look in them: the girl's name was Karen...something. Here, last names weren't an issue.

'Karen. What is it?'

The girl opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Finally, she managed to whisper.

'It's L-Little Jo-Joey. He said...'

Darla waved a hand: there was no need for further explanation. Karen buried her head between her arms again and resumed the sobbing. Darla wondered whether she should pat her head or something... Why when Connor was sad it was so easy for her to comfort him, whereas Karen's pathetic sobs only manged to annoy her to no end? Deciding she'd do no good standing there, she turned around and exited the kitchen, ignoring Darryl's frown and forgetting all about the fries – chips – whatever.

At the corner, there was a table at which five men were sitting. If you could call them men. The mere sight of them would have probably terrified braver people than mousy Karen.

They were huge, with arms like hams covered with tattoos; long, greasy hair; and more scars on their faces than lines at the London's Underground Map. In the center of the group sat Little Joey, who was the biggest and ugliest of them all.

The first night Darla had had the misfortune of wearing the ridiculous green-and-white uniform, which made her look like something between a skanky nurse and an overgrown girl scout, Little Joey had considered her butt to be something of his property, judging from the pats he dared to give her.

There had been a time – not so long ago – in which such audacity wouldn't have gone unpunished. It would have been quick: one single movement of her hand, and Little Joey's face would have smashed like pumpkin against his apple pie.

But that time had gone by, and smashing his bones wasn't an option. It was kind of ironic: last time that had happened to her, she'd been trapped by a weak body. Now she was trapped by a strong consciense.

However, Darla hadn't lived four hundred years for anything. If there was something she'd learnt, was to handle morons.

Instead of reacting at his pats, she had smiled sweetly and been very polite. After he'd paid, though, he stretched out his arm... and Darla had seen her chance and caught it by the wrist.

Without saying a word, she'd slowly incresed the pressure on a sensitive nerve, until Little Joey's shocked face had turned completely white. Before he let out a cry of pain, which would have ended with both his fame of Unnoficial Wrestling Champion of the Neighbourhood and her job at Tabby's, she'd released him. From that day on, he'd been extremely courteous with her, and the other clients had followed his example. Darla thought that probably they believed that, if someone as scary as Little Joey feared her, it was good reason to fear her too. However, that was only a part of the reason: the truth was that there was something in her eyes that told people not to mess with her.

As she approached the table at the corner, Little Joey hurried to give her his most pleasant smile, but she could see the hint of worry in his eyes.

'Miss Jones! How're yeh?'

Since the night she'd showed him a glimpse of her strength, Little Joey and almost every other client always called her by the last name that was written on her fake I.D., although nobody called the other waitresses by their last name.

'I'm alright, thanks for asking, Joey'. As far as she knew, she was the only one who didn't call him "Little". 'But Karen didn't seem to be so fine'.

Little Joey tried unsuccesfully to look puzzled. 'Karen who?'

She raised an eyebrow. He blinked nervously at her cool stare, and muttered:

'The mousy bird? Why?'

Darla smiled, but there wasn't anything warm in the gesture. 'It seems like some of your comments might have offended her'.

The faked puzzlement faded from his face. He looked at his friends, apparently seeking for assistance, but they averted his eyes. Gulping, he turned to face her, looking like a child about to be hit with the belt.

'Look, bird – I mean, Miss Jones –' He smiled nervously. She remained her face implacable. He bit his lower lip. 'I was jokin', ok? She should've known I wasn't serious. Never meant to – er – offend her'.

Darla glared at him a little more, just to see him squirm, and then her expression softened.

'Sure you didn't, Joey. It must have been a misunderstanding.' The man nodded eagerly. She repressed a snort. 'That's why you're going to apologize to Karen, and...yes, give her an important tip. I'm sure that'd convince her you didn't meant to hurt her feelings'.

Little Joey opened his mouth, horrified. There were two things he never did. One was apologizing, as it was for pussies. The other one was giving tips. After all, he was widely known for his cheapness. He had a reputation to uphold, see.

However, Darla chose that moment to crack her knuckles distractedly, and his resolve disappeared. Instead, he grudgingly nodded again.

'Tell her to come. I-I'll give her a tip and – er – say sorry'.

Darla gave him a radiant smile, which probably only managed to make him sweat a little more, and returned to the kitchen, shaking her head.

Four centuries and men hand't changed one little bit.

* * *

Wesley had helped her to get an apartment – a flat. She should get used to England all over again.

It was in an old building, in a not so nice neighbourhood of London, but it was only a couple of blocks away from The Leaky Cauldron. This came in really handy, as she had to use the inn's fireplace to get to The Three Broomsticks, from where she'd head to Snape's house to visit Connor. She could have very easily gone straight to Snape's fireplace, but like hell the man was going to give her an invitation to his house. He'd made it fully clear during the first time they'd seen each other what he thought of her kind, and that if he was letting her see Connor was only because the boy and Dumbledore had insisted on it.

At the wizard's coldness and harsh manners, Darla could not help wondering how he'd come to adopt her child...and how came Wesley and the others had let him. She'd shared this doubts with Wesley, trying her best not to accuse him of neglect. Wesley had sighed.

'We didn't make the choice. Connor did'. At her astounded expression, he explained further. 'When Justine came with Connor after spending five years in Pylea – although here it were only a couple of weeks – he was a little – well, untamable. He didn't believe us that Holtz had died, and he wanted to go back to Pylea (you know, the hell dimension Sahjaan sent them by mistake) with him and Justine. He didn't trust us either, because he'd seen us performing magic and, well... I'm sure you're aware of Holtz's feelings regarding magic'. Darla nodded, somberly remember Holtz's days as an unofficial member of the Inquisition. 'It was a hell of a month the one he spent with us. When his magic powers showed, Giles suggested taking him to Hogwarts, as he knew the Headmaster. We did so, and after a couple of months, when we felt Connor would be ready, we went to pick him up.' A grimace appeared on Wesley's face. 'But Connor already had other plans'.

Then, he'd detailed her the disastrous meeting at Hogwarts, when Connor had refused by all means to go back with them.

'I didn't want to force him to come with us against his will', he explained, 'and then Dumbledore suggested that Connor made the choice himself. And he chose Professor Snape'.

Wesley let out another sigh, and took another sip of his Starbucks coffee, grimaced, and turned to face her. 'I know he doesn't look like the fatherly type. But...he cares for Connor, that's evident. And Connor... Connor seems to be happy with him, doesn't he?'

Darla couldn't deny any of those statements. From Snape's desperation the night Connor had disappeared (actually, he'd been with Darla, but he couldn't have known that at the time) and the way Connor looked at him, it was obvious that Wesley was right.

'Now I'm seeing him, are you gonna visit him too?'

Wesley looked startled. 'Me? Visit Connor?' He shifted uncomfortably on his seat. 'I don't think so. I mean, I don't think he would like that... it would be painful for him to remember all he's gone through...'

_Only for Connor it would be painful?_, Darla wondered. But she had to be fair with Wesley: he had every right to move on with his life, and possibly he wouldn't be able to do so if he was constantly reminded of what had happened to his two best friends. He wasn't the only one: most of the people who'd known Angel weren't that eager to meet Connor, as it would bring up too painful memories.

Back to the flat: It was incredibly old, with dampened walls and rusty wooden floors... but it had little natural light, which was an advantage, it had central heating and hot water, and it was very spacious. Darla thought it was promising, in spite of Wesley's incredulous look.

'Don't worry. I'll make it better. It just needs some...redecoration'.

Wesley had looked rather sckeptical, but that didn't waver Darla's confidence. She knew exactly how she could improve the place, and where to get the help necessary to do so.

After the fall of Sunnydale, the dream team had split up. Buffy, Xander and Lorne, on separate ways, were travelling around the globe seraching for new Slayers. Dawn had remained in Cleveland to finish high school, with Willow, Kennedy and Spike, who was still recovering from his wounds. Faith and Wood, as well as Fred and Gunn, were looking for Slayers in the States. Faith and Wood had taken the East Coast (due to Faith's criminal record, they needed to get as far away from California as possible) and Fread and Gunn, the West Coast. On the other hand, Giles had decided, given that now there were much more Slayers than Watchers to train them, to open in London some sort of school for all the new Slayers who needed training. And that was where Darla headed the following day after her purchase of the new apartment.

She had been right: there were sevral teenaged girls eager to get out from the school and to skip training sessions. They were just girls, after all, and most of them hadn't known anything about duty or sacrifice until their calling. Most of them just missed what their lives had been like, even though they'd made the choice themselves, and jumped at the chance of doing something different. And redecorating an apartment was certainly different from killing demons or patrolling London's foggy alleys in a freezingly cold night.

Giles reluctantly gave them permission, and during the following two weeks a bunch of teenagers led by Darla worked inher apartment, in acombined effort to make it fit to live in. Darla at first had felt a little guilty, but soon she'd found out that the girls didn't feel exploited at all. On the contrary, for them it was much more fun that they had had in a while. Soon, the apartment was unrecognizable.

The walls had been painted in neutral colours, as all the bright shades had been left for the furniture, which was an odd mixture of the stuff London's secondhand shops could offer. The result was very eclectic, especially as each girl had her own opinions about decoration, but Darla didn't mind, as it looked cozier that way.

She'd also got a fridge and a microwave, but it would be a long while before she were able to get a TV set with her salary. She didn't mind, though. It wasn't like she were a huge fan of soup operas, anyway.

She'd prepared one of the rooms as a possible bedroom for Connor, in the case Snape ever allowed him to stay at her home for the night. That would probably take even a longer while than getting the TV set, but Darla could wait.

Another chamber was prepared as an improvised training room. As they were rather short of staff, Giles had offered her the chance to help him to train the girls. Darla had accepted, oddly delighted at the sign of trust. She could get used to it. Besides, it was a way more gratifying job than serving Little Joey, although the pay was even worse.

And she'd fixed the problem of the natural light. She couldn't afford using electricity at all times, so she would need some daylight...as long as it didn't mean bursting into flames. Fortunately, the windows were small and they were high on the walls, but to make the most of the natural light she put small parts of mirrors on the high part of the walls, like a border. This way, the light reflected and illuminated the whole place...without risking her incineration, of course.

After all the arrangements had been made and the redecoration was over, the girls went back to their school, and to their lives, and Darla was left alone in her new home. She walked from one room to the other, checking everything was alright and fixing little details. She liked what the place looked like now. It wasn't luxurious, it wasn't fancy...

...but it was home.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

As you probably know, given I've mentioned this at the beggining of this fic, 'Ain't so far down' is the companion piece to another one of my fics, 'Two Single Parents'. I've always thought of this two different fics as the two halves of the same story, although it's not really necessary to read both. However, there are some things you might need to know to understand certain things, and if you haven't read 'Two Single Parents', then this notes are meant for you:

First of all, 'Two Single Parents' is an Angel/Harry Potter crossover, so bear that in mind as I explain certain things. Here we go...

- As seen in Episode 2, Connor was kidnapped by Holtz and Justine as Angel was murdered. Sahjaan followed them, opened the portal – but as Justine had already opened the urn and this was sucking the demon, he made a mistake, and sent them to Pylea instead. Holtz, Justine and Connor spent five years there, although in LA it were only a couple of weeks. Then Holtz died, and Justine and Connor were able to return, with Groo's help.

- Justine left Connor with Wesley and the others, and hell began. Connor didn't want to stay with them. Then he showed his first signs of magic and AI team freaked out. When they told Giles about this, he realised Connor was indeed a wizard, and suggested they should take him to Hogwarts, as Giles knew the Headmaster. For those of you unfamiliar with HP, Hogwarts is a magical school in England, and the Headmaster's name's Dumbledore.

- Once in Hogwarts, Connor leanrt to accept and control his powers, yayada, and bonded with Professor Snape, one of the teachers. As Wesley explained, Connor chose Snape over the AI team, and therefore went to live with him instead.

- In the twelfth chapter of '2SP', Darla meets Connor at night. He follows her to a cave where she was hiding, and she can't escort him back to Snape's because of sunrise. So she spends with Connor the entire day until nightfall, while Snape frets over Connor's disappearance.

- Finally, the truth's unveiled. Snape doesn't like the idea of a vampire getting close to Connor at all, but Connor wants to keep seeing his mother so in the end he gives in: Connor still lives with him, but Darla can visit her son every now and then.

Well, I think that's all. I guess it would have been easier just to tell you to read the other fic. You might like it...


	10. Episode 10

**Imzadi:** Sorry for my lateness, but here's the new Episode. The part Darla deals with Little Joey was incredibly funny to write, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As for Lindsey, perhaps in Episode 12 you'll find something that might interest you...

* * *

**Episode 10:**

'_So, no one told you life was going to be this way. _

_Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A. _

_It's like you're always stuck in second gear. _

_When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month,_

_or even your year. _

_But..._

_I'll be there for you (when the rain starts to pour)_

_I'll be there for you (like I've been there before)_

_I'll be there for you ('cause you're there for me too)'_

_**- 'I'll Be There For You', by The Rembrandts -**_

'So,' a low voice with a strong British accent came from one end of the phone, 'what are the big news? Don't keep me waitin', pet.'

Instead of answering at once, Darla shifted the phone on her shoulder so she could have both her hands free, and began to untie her shoes, being deliberately slow just to get on Spike's nerves. Finally, a sharp 'C'me on!' from the phone, and the chilly thought of what the phone bill would be like if she took too long, she answered:

'Well, brace yourself... Connor's coming over this weekend!'

There was a short, stunned silence.

'Darla, that's...that's great.'

'Yeah, I know! And without Snape's supervision. You don't have an idea of how hard it was to convince him that I wasn't going to eat my son up the second he dropped his watch.' Darla pursed her lips. 'Anyway, he's given me permission, and like Cinderella, I have to return Connor to his home at an appropriate time for a boy his age... I might take him to the movies, I bet he's never been in a cinema. What do you think?'

'I think movies'll be alright, pet. He's gonna luv Disney. And, Darla... I'm afraid I sound like a nancy boy, but I'm happy for you.'

Darla smiled, even though there was nobody to see it. 'Thanks, Spike. I'm so excited about it that's almost silly. Last night I couldn't sleep...'

'Luv, vampires don't sleep at night'.

She snorted. 'It's a manner of speech! And I remember you saying something like that to Buffy once... Or was it a verse of that morbid song of yours, rest in peace or something?'

'Hey!' he exclaimed. 'It wasn't morbid. Well, perhaps a little. But it wasn't that bad.'

Darla rolled her eyes.

'Yeah, sure. Anyway,' she paused, and then she asked, trying her best to sound natural, 'have you heard anything from her lately?'

There was a silence, and Darla could mentally see Spike shrugging off the implications of her question.

'Niblet said something. Seems like she'll come back for Platelet's holidays. Have you heard about Wild Girl?'

Darla realised he was desperate to change the subject, so she obliged and told him what she knew about Faith, without mentioning her boyfriend. The subject of Wood – and his murdered mother – was still painful for Spike, just as Holtz was for her.

After the events of Sunnydale, Darla had hoped that... Well, she didn't know what she had hoped for. But the moment Spike had been about to burst into flames, and Buffy had stared at him with that anguished look in her eyes... Damn it, Darla would have bet there had been something there. And the tender way Buffy had treated the wounded Spike all the journey to Cleveland... it had to mean something.

When they'd reached Cleveland, though, and it was obvious Spike wasn't in mortal danger anymore, Buffy had been the first one to offer herself to search for new Slayers around the globe, leaving her ex-lover behind, as though nothing had happened. Darla could not understand it.

Spike, of course, had tried to justify her. He'd said that, after all, she didn't have the obligation to stay. She'd never said she returned his feelings, and she had every right to move on with her life. He'd sounded convincing...but his eyes had told another story. Inside, he was hurting all the same, and Darla was mad at Buffy because of that. Couldn't she see she was wasting a precious thing? Last time Darla had been offered something like that, she hadn't been able to appreciate it, but Buffy had no excuse.

She tried to wip those thoughts from her mind. It was none of her business. Spike was free to ruin his unlife the way it suited him best. And there was nothing she could do about it.

* * *

Darla folded her arms, in a futile attempt to stop the chilly wind from scratching her chest. The jacket wasn't an opponent for the cold weather, and God knew her hideous uniform was anything but warm. Wasn't it supposed to be summertime? Why, then, was it so damned cold?

By the time she reached her apartment block, she was already starting to freeze, and her situation didn't improve once she was inside. Even though her own apartment was cozy and warm, the rest of the building was under construction, and there were no lights or heating in the long, narrow corridors. That was perhaps the reason there weren't many people living in that building, except for some poor old ladies and a grumpy old man, a numerous family and a gothic girl named Cheryl who seemed to be perpetually stoned.

Fortunately she didn't run into any of them, because she certainly wasn't in the mood to be sociable. She had had enough at work, with an especially annoying customer who'd threatened to sue them all for a hamburger not completely cooked, Darryl's awful jokes and the always irritating fellow waitresses, including Sobbing Karen. Darla would have been very happy to avoid human company for the rest of the night, and spend a quiet time in her favourite armchair reading a book or just dozing off, warm and comfortable. She smiled in advance and walked faster.

Her smile faded away, though, as soon as she set foot in her apartment, because even before she turned on the light she realised there was something very wrong. There had to be something very wrong, because otherwise her feet wouldn't be completely immersed in a pool of freezing water.

When she finally turned on the light and saw the disaster her beloved apartment had turned into, did the only thing she could do at the moment.

She cursed.

* * *

The phone rang, startling her. It took her a moment to realise she actually had to _answer_ it. She jumped from her armchair, which didn't feel so cozy now, and strode over towards the phone. She grabbed it with so much energy that she almost tore it from the wall.

'What,' she snapped. There was a stunned silence. Finally, a hesitant voice said:

'Darla?'

'Oh, Spike. Hi.' She tried her best to sound calm, and began rubbing her neck. Obviously she didn't sound convincing enough, as Spike, still dubious, asked:

'Are you alright?'

Darla opened her mouth to say everything was just peachy, but something went wrong because instead she almost shouted.

'No, I'm not alright. I'm not alright at all. My house resembles Kosovo, or maybe Waterworld. I'm cold, I'm wet, most of my furniture is ruined, the water keeps coming out of nowhere, I don't know what to do to stop it, _and Connor's supposed to come here this Friday!_'

There was a pause, during which Darla fumed and Spike tried to digest the information.

'So,' he finally said, in a calm voice, 'what did you say that happened?'

Darla sighed, walked a couple of steps backwards and let herself fall into an armchair.

'The other night, when I came home, the apartment was flooded. I mean, _completely_ flooded. And the kitchen's wooden floor had risen, or something. It seems that the damned pipes collapsed, exploded or disintegrated themselves, I don't know, and I don't care. And you won't believe how much it costs to repair it!'

'How much?'

Darla snorted. 'Way more than I can afford, at least until I get my pay, which won't happen in two weeks.'

Spike asked again about the sum of money. She told him. He let out a whistle.

'That's a lot of gold, pet.'

'Tell me about it! I don't know how I'll get the money, and how the hell I'll get it soon enough to get everything ready for Friday night!'

Spike reflected about it. 'Well, maybe you don't need to get it before Friday. Weren't you taking the kiddo to the movies? He doesn't have to see the place.'

Darla was on the verge of tearing her hair from frustration.

'Don't you understand, Spike? _Snape_ will bring him straight here. And when Snape sees this...' Her arm made a gesture that included the whole disastrous place, gesture that Spike could not see but neither need to. 'He'll say that I live in a trash can, that I can't keep a place in good state, or even worse, he's capable of suggesting that I destroyed the pipes all by myself, due to my vampiric evilness. Don't _laugh_, you don't know him! He's the most paranoid person I've met, and he hates me. Or at least he hates what I am. He'll use any excuse to keep Connor away from me. He still thinks I'm gonna eat him up the second he's not watching.'

Before Spike could reply, she went on with her rant:

'He'll think I'm not trustworthy at all, and that if I can't take care of an apartment I won't be able to take care of a child, and that would be the end of all my hopes to ever sharing Connor's custody, and I really can't believe I'm on the verge of hysteria because of a damned pipe!'

Spike tried to calm her down, which wasn't an easy task as the old advice 'breath in, breath out' wouldn't work in her case. Finally, Darla managed to compose and recovered from her hysteria, at least for the moment.

'I'm so sorry for yelling at you and all, Spike... I didn't even ask you why you had called.' Suddenly she frowned. 'Is everything okay there?'

Spike replied a second too late.

'Sure, just peachy. Little Bit's very cheerful and all these days.'

'Because of Buffy's visit?'

This time, the awkward pause was even longer.

'Hmm...no exactly. I'd say she'd happy 'cause her sister send her a plane ticket so they'd meet in Paris.'

Darla understood at once what Spike's words implied, and also understood why he had called her.

'Oh, Spike, I'm so sorry to hear that.'

'Why? Niblet's happy.'

Darla would have liked to smack him, but the miles between them prevented her from doing so.

'And what about you?'

Spike let out a fake laugh.

'I've told you, I'm peachy. Not like there was nutting between us anymore, right?' He let out a sigh. 'Who am I kidding? I was so down when I found out that... no, you're gonna laugh.'

'What, Spike? You think that after my breakdown due to a _broken pipe_ I can laugh at anybody?'

'Hmm... I guess no. Well, I... I spent the whole day trying to remember the verses of that song we talked the other day, see. Let me rest in peace and all. There you have. That's how depressed I was.'

Darla took pity on him. 'Oh, Spike. That's bad.'

'I know. I had to make up some of the verses 'cause I couldn't remember them... Do you want to hear it?'

Darla grimaced. 'If that'll make you feel better...'

'C'mon, Darla, it's not bloody Manilow'.

Finally, though, he decided not to sing it, and instead they began to talk about football, and the Manchester United which, as it couldn't have been other way given Spike's bad luck, had lost its last match.

Once their conversation was over, Spike couldn't say he felt much better, but at least he'd gotten distracted from his own depression due to Darla's problems. Not like he could do much to help her, though. He didn't have one bloody penny to give her.

He picked up a magazine from Dawn's collection, just to laugh a little at the cheesy articles – in his current mood, it might cheer him up – and flipped through the pages. Suddenly, an advert caught his eye. _'A chance to earn some money and become famous!'_

An idea began to form in his mind...

* * *

Darla had tried it all. She had asked her boss to give her part of her salary in advance, she had tried applying for a loan at the bank, she had been even tempted to ask Giles to lend her some money, but she knew damn well he had spent all his money putting up the Slayers School and was rather bankrupt by now.

She had resigned to live in a perpetually flooded place, at least until she got her pay, and she'd began to consider that perhaps she should tell Snape that she wouldn't be able to take care of Connor that week (no way, she had to see him) or try to arrange another place to meet, which Snape would never allow, as he'd surely want to see the place she lived by himself...

Knocking was heard on the door. Sighing, Darla buried her face in the pillow. She really wasn't in the mood for seeing anybody. And it wasn't like she got any visitors apart from Cheryl, who occasionally came to ask her for some coffee. Darla had ran out of coffee and, besides, she wasn't in the mood to listen to the girl's incoherent babbling, which reminded her a little too much of Dru to make her comfortable.

Knock, knock. Darla groaned. Perhaps it wasn't Cheryl. Perhaps it was Giles, or one of the Slayers-in-training. Either way, she had to rise from bed and answer the door.

To her surprise, on the doorstep was standing a boy in his twenties, with a face covered by acne and fully dressed in a Western Union uniform. He beamed at her, ignoring her pitiful clothes and her messy hair.

'Miss Darla Jones?' At her nod, his smile became broader, like Cheshire cat. 'Please, sign here.'

She did so with the pen he offered her, and he handed her a brown envelope. 'Have a nice day.' Still smiling, he left, although she hadn't pronounced a single word.

She ripped open the envelope, and to her shock she found the exact amount of money she needed to repair the pipes.

It didn't say who had sent it... and it wasn't necessary at all.

* * *

When Darla called, more than thrilled, to thank him all over again and to tell him how Connor's visit had been (_it was so great, Spike, you should have seen his face at the movies!_), Spike felt happier than he had done since Niblet had taken the flight to Paris. He felt oddly satisfied knowing that he had contributed to Darla's happiness, even though he felt so down.

And, anyway, as she was in France Buffy would never found out that he'd sold 'Rest in Peace' for a deodorant TV advert...

* * *

_Next to come: _Darla receives an unexpected visit, and romance's in the air...or not. 


	11. Episode 11

**Episode 11:**

'_Love and other moments are just chemical reactions in your brain  
In your brain  
And feelings of aggressions are the absence of the love drug in your veins  
In your veins  
Love come quickly  
Because I feel my self-esteem is caving in  
It's on the brink  
Love come quickly  
Because I don't think I can keep this monster in  
It's in my skin'_

**_- 'Gunning Down Romance', by Savage Garden -_**

Darla hastened her step as she approached her apartment. It was always nice, coming back home...now that she had a home to come back to. She'd never had a home before. For so long she'd just wandered, without a north, without a place to shelter. And most of the time, she had liked it. She had liked the freedom, she had enjoyed the sensation of being like a leaf led by the wind, just going wherever she pleased, when she pleased...

Now, though, she preferred a quiet place to stay. She, who had been in luxurious hotels and marble palaces, who had seen the whirlwind of fancy parties, the rush of wars and the turmoil of Hell, enjoying it all, now preferred to stay at a simple apartment, with a simple job and a rather simple life. It made her feel... human.

All those pleasant thoughts were wiped from her mind when she saw the apartment's door ajar. She frowned. She never left the door unlocked. However, she didn't feel very surprised: after all, hers wasn't a nice neighbourhood at all. The matron that lived on the first floor had commented something about it: hadn't some poor devils next door been robbed last week...?

She sheltered in the dark and listened intently to the sounds coming from the apartment. She heard muffled steps, an unsteady breathing, a sudden thump and the distant sound of a low voice... cursing, no doubt. Great. So the robbers were still inside. Before she realised it, a grin spread over her face. Boy, they were in for a surprise.

She tiptoed, without making the faintest sound, and moved in a cat-like manner along the wall, her back against the cold concrete. She thought in grabbing the stake in her pocket, but discarded the idea. The breathing she'd heard earlier indicated they were no vampires, and she wasn't going to stake a human being. No, this time her fists would have to do.

Soon she was standing next to the door. She focused her senses, and in no time she was able to locate where the person was standing both by the smell and the sounds that made. The idiot was coming closer to the door...

_Now._

She turned and launched herself forward through the doorframe, and tackled the dark figure in front of her. There was a yelp of surprise as they both fell to the ground with a thump, and the struggling began. To her surprise, her slim opponent was much tougher than she would have believed: the woman (yes, it was a woman) managed to block most of her blows, and hit her jaw with a nice, painful punch.

Darla got annoyed. This wasn't going as she'd planned. She rolled over and rose. As her opponent did the same, Darla raised her hand to throw a punch to her face... when suddenly a ray of moonlight from the corridor illuminated the intruder's face.

'Faith? What the hell are you doing here?'

* * *

Faith was gloomily lying on the sofa, her feet on the coffee table, a pack of ice on her face and a mug of coffee in her hand.

'Yuck, Darla, you play dirty.' She grimaced. 'That's gonna leave a mark, y'know.'

Darla snorted. 'I pretty much doubt it, given your Slayer fast healing and all. And you fully deserved it. Can you explain again why did you break into my apartment?'

Faith shrugged, as she raised her head a few inches and took a sip of her coffee. 'Didn't wanna wait outside.'

'And why couldn't you just turn on the light, like normal people?'

The brunette grinned mischieviously. 'I like it dark, Thelma.'

Darla rolled her eyes. 'Whatever.' She looked at her, resigned, and shook her head. 'Why didn't you let me now you were coming? I'd have picked you up from the airport or something.'

Faith shrugged. 'Wanna it to be a surprise.' Sighing, she put the pack of ice aside and rose from the sofa, leaving the mug on the table. She cast an appreciative look to her surroundings.

'You gotta a hell of a place here, Thelma.'

Darla smiled. 'Thanks. It's much nicer now than it used to be – now that I could finally decorate it exactly as I wanted. Of course, you could have seen it sooner, if you hadn't waited to pay me a visit until a year since I moved in here had passed.'

Faith raised her hands in front of her, as though she were trying to defend herself from Darla's mockingly accussing tone.

'Hey, it's not like I got much cash when I was on the run with Rob, tryin' to catch the newbies. Flyin' to England was a little out of my reach.'

'Okey, okey,' Darla said, conciliatory. 'So, how is the Slayer tracking going? How's Robin?'

'The Slayer tracking's alright, but they seem to come out from the ground. Never finish finding 'em all. As for Robin,' Faith shrugged, 'I wouldn't know. Haven't heard of him in a while.'

Darla straightened in her seat, all her senses suddenly alert. 'So,' she said cautiously, 'have you two had a row or something?'

Faith shifted, uncomfortable. 'Not so much as a row as him packing his stuff and getting out of the door not to come back.'

Darla's eyes widened in shock. 'He _left_ you? Why the hell would he do such a thing?'

The brunette's lips curved in a wry smile, but to Darla it looked more like a grimace. 'Guess he did so 'cause I'd packed my stuff first, though he beat me at getting through the door.'

Darla felt utterly astounded. 'You never said things were wrong between you two'.

Faith averted her eyes. 'What 'bout a change of subject? How's your new job?'

Darla narrowed her eyes. She would let it go for now, but Faith wasn't going to get away that easily.

'My job's alright, thanks for asking. It's much better to be a sales clerk than a waitress at a cheap dinner. The uniform doesn't itch that much, and the pay's way better.'

'Good to hear that.'

Darla nodded. God, how much she'd hated her first job. She didn't think she'd ever felt as much satisfaction as she had the day she'd said goodbye to Darryl, Little Joey, Karen and the greasy smell.

'And now I'm going to night school.'

Faith looked impressed. 'Gotten ambitious, huh?'

Darla smiled. 'Now I got a reason to improve my economic perspectives.'

Faith nodded absently, as her gaze fell upon a framed picture on the coffee table. She took a step towards it, bent and picked up the picture. She stared at it intently, as if she were trying to memorize every line of the boyish face portrayed in it, every shade of the innocent blue eyes staring back.

'Baby's all grown up, huh?' There was an edge to her voice, a slight tremble which gave away her feelings, in spite of the cool mask that was placed on her face. 'He ain't look much like Angel, does he?'

Darla rose slowly from her seat and walked towards her. 'No, I guess he doesn't.'

'But he looks happy, doesn't he? Like all kids should.' Faith's voice sounded very distant, and her eyes were still fixed to the picture, a look of longing in her black orbs that made Darla's heart ache. She looked at the picture, where Connor was beaming, with his special, glorius smile, then he looked at Faith, who looked... lost. And almost... teary.

'You could see him, you know. He visits me more or less regularly now. You could meet him, if you want to.'

Faith got her eyes off the picture, and looked taken aback. 'Me? Meeting Angel's kid?' She seemed to ponder about it for a moment, then she shook her head. 'I'm afraid I'm not ready, not yet.'

Darla smiled, sympathetic, and put a hand on her shoulder.

'You still miss him, don't you?'

Faith smiled sadly. 'Every day. He was... he was supposed to be my guide. He was supposed to tell me how to be good, what to do to seek redemption... And now he's gone, and I don't know what to do, I don't know where to turn.'

Darla looked at her straight in the eye. 'Faith, listen to me. You don't need anyone to tell you what to do. You got nothing to prove, not anymore. You're doing it quite well all by yourself.'

Faith chuckled bitterly. 'Funny, Thelma, but not everybody thinks like you.'

Darla shrugged. 'Well, what can I say? Not everybody is as smart as me.' Her friend smiled faintly. 'Are you gonna tell me what happened between you and Robin?'

Faith snorted. 'Not gonna give up, are you?'

She smiled. 'Not bloddy likely'.

Sighing, Faith walked to the sofa and sunk again in it. Darla took seat right in front of her, and waited patiently. Well, as patiently as she could.

'Don't know why it didn't work out. It was supposed to be perfect, y'know. He was a nice guy... the first nice guy who'd ever cared for a chick like me. Well, Angel had, but not like that. And he was cool about me bein' a Slayer and stuff. We fought together, side by side. Sex was great, and he made pancakes the morning after.' Faith placed her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands, a pensive look on her face. 'For a while, it was... perfect. We had fun, he cared for me, like no other had... And then... I don't know, then things went downhill. Got no idea how it started, but one day we started bickering and we didn't stop. He wanted to reform me, see, like Angel had. But Angel had only wanted me to stop hurting myself and others, Robin, instead... I think Robin wanted to turn me into Lil' Miss Perfect. And I'm no fucking Miss Perfect, that's always been our B.'

Faith took a sip of her coffee, which had to have gotten rather cold by now, judging from the grimace on her face as she tasted it.

'And that wasn't all. Cuz, if it'd been just the bickering... I don't know, maybe we could have fixed it. Somehow. But there was something else.'

Faith stopped talking, as she seemed to be lost in thought. Darla waited a moment, then her curiosity and impatience got the better of her.

'What was it?'

Faith sighed. 'I realised I didn't miss him anymore. When at first we fought, and we didn't see each other, I missed him, even though we'd been apart only a couple of hours. And then, one day... I didn't miss him anymore. I realised I didn't care whether he left or not. So, I found out I didn't love him. Hell, maybe I never loved him. Cared for him, sure, but loved him...'

Faith shook her head sadly. 'He didn't exactly shake me. He didn't change my world. And he had that annoying way to act as if I had to be sooo thankful to him for caring for me when I'd been so bad... So one day, I packed my stuff and told him that. Man, he was mad. He tried to convince me that we deserved another chance. He said he loved me and I, I think he meant it.' A shadow crossed her features, and Darla could glimpse a hint of guilt in her eyes. 'But I didn't, so he left. And it was over.'

Faith looked terribly deflated. 'Guess I should've known better. A relationship with me in it couldn't last.'

Darla frowned. 'Faith, it wasn't just your fault that it didn't work out. From what you've told me, Robin is the one to blame. Even if it weren't so, sometimes... sometimes things just aren't supposed to work out. Sometimes, you can't keep pretending to believe in feelings that just aren't there.'

'Love's a bitch'.

Darla snorted. 'Ask Spike. He's an expert'.

Faith cast her a questioning look. 'What's wrong with Bleached Blonde? Oh, wait... still weeping over B?'

Darla feigned surprise. 'How did you guess?' She shook her head. 'Last time I saw him, I told him to stop pretending he had moved on with his life, when he clearly hadn't, and go look for her.'

Faith leaned forward, curiosity shinning in her eyes. 'What happened?'

Darla rolled her eyes. 'Buffy said some bullshit about still having feelings for him, but then she added that she needed some 'time' to sort them out, and blah, blah. As if she hasn't had enough time already!'

Faith shook her head, smiling, but it wasn't an amused smile. 'B's always liked 'em to be at her feet... so she could stomp them whenever she felt like it. That's her.'

Both women fell silent, as Darla stared at a point in midair and Faith kept revolving her cold, undrinkable coffee. Finally, the Slayer broke the silence.

'D'you think love really exists, or it's just an invention of St. Valentine's postacards' writers and Hollywood cheesy movies?'

Darla shrugged.

'Don't know, and really don't care. For me, it's always one-night stands... and trust me, I prefer it that way.' She frowned. 'Which reminds me, I gotta get something decent to wear for tomorrow night.'

Faith looked at her, bewildered, until dawning comprehension appeared on her face.

'You got a date!' As soon as she made the statement, she proceeded to the basic questioning Darla had already seen coming.

'Tall, hot, about forty years old, possibly divorced or separated. Name's Richard, met him at Sainsbury's.' Darla shrugged. 'Honestly, there's nothing extraordinary about it.'

Faith just wouldn't listen to her last statement, and made Darla promise that she would fill her in with all the details, even though Darla herself suspected that this new date would be no different from the previous ones.

* * *

About the last thing, she was both right and wrong. Richard proved to be more entertaining and fun than his last date. Not only he knew a lot of interesting people, but he also had a nice, acid humor sense, which matched hers.

With his dark blonde hair and his blue eyes, Darla had liked Richard because he didn't remind her of Angel at all. However, as night progressed, she realised that his witty comments and his chivalry felt awfully familiar, and it didn't take long to find out why: he reminded her of Lindsey.

Lindsey. Darla still felt a pang of guilt everytime she thought about him. He was easily one of the people she'd hurt the most... and possibly the first one who'd ever truly cared for her, not because he'd felt compelled to, like Angel, but because he just felt it. He might have even loved her. And if he had, he was certainly the only man who had done so.

And what she'd given her in return? A broken heart and a new scar on his soul. She biefly wondered where Lindsey could be right now. Wesley had told her that he'd reformed or something... Maybe he was somewhere out there, doing some good... After all, if she could, why couldn't he?

She wiped those thoughts of her mind and returned her attention to Richard, but from that moment on the evening had a bittersweet flavour for her.

After dinner they went dancing, which was easily one of Darla's favourite things. Richard proved to be a decent dancer, and they spent a rather good time at one of London's most exclusive clubs.

After that, they went to his apartment (a rather nice, fancy one), just as Darla had predicted. Thing went rather well and Darla was pleased, but anyway she rose from bed and got dressed a couple of hours before sunrise. In that moment, Richard asked her why couldn't she stay. Startled, she realised it was the first guy who asked her that.

'I'm sorry, Richard, but I can't. I told you so before, remember?'

Richard nodded somberly, then he looked at her and smiled, a little hesitant:

'But you will call me, right?'

Darla smiled the fakest smile ever, and blatantly lied saying that she would. After that, she hastened to get away from him as soon as possible. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised she was betraying a nice (well, at least with her) guy all over again... but she couldn't help it. It wasn't like she could change her own nature, right?

As she headed home, she reflected about Faith's words. Was love – the romantic, St. Valentine's kind – a real thing? She couldn't say, as she'd never experienced it herself. Clearly her obsession with Angelus couldn't be defined as 'love'.

She knew people that could prove love's existence, though. Angel and Buffy. Angel and Cordelia. Fred and Gunn. And hadn't Willow almost ended up the world just because she'd lost a loved one?

However, there were as many – or possibly more – people that could prove her wrong. After all, Buffy and Angel had broken up; Willow didn't seem to be going through a nice phase with her new girlfriend, at least from what Faith had told her, and hadn't Harris (or the Whelp, as Spike called him) left his bride in front of the altar? Was love a real thing, or just a nice illusion? Did it exist, or was it just a bunch of chemical reactions in the brain, like the song said? Darla just didn't know.

The answer machine, though, was a different case. When she closed the door behind her, she noted the red light glinting, and hastened to pulse the 'Play' button. At once, Spike's voice filled the place, but it didn't sound like Spike's voice at all. There was something different about it, something... cheerful. _Happy_.

'_Darla, know it's late, but probably not for you, with all the no sleepin' at night... Wanted you to be the first to know, though. Buffy's come back to Cleveland. And we talked. I mean, really talked. Communicated. Like... Well, you got the idea. And she said that she's willin' to give it a try, Darla. She says she wants to give us a try. She says she feels it too._

_I'm too bloody happy to talk, too high to think. You understand, don't you, pet? Anyway, thanks for the advice you gave me last time. Didn't believe you then, but I do now. I'm the happiest man in the world. Hell, that sounded like a nancy boy. Don't care right now, for once._

_Gotta go now. Call you later. Buffy's calling me...'_

Or maybe, there was just some hope left in the world after all.

* * *

**Imzadi: **Sorry to disappoint you, _again_, about the unexpected visitor! Don't get desperate, though. As I am a really nice person, you won't have to wait much longer...

About Spike, well, maybe he's got a chance after all. And then, maybe he does not. Time will show. And yeah, Buffy can be a bit of a bitch sometimes, we all know that.

As for what Darla thought ("Couldn't she see she was wasting a precious thing? Last time Darla had been offered something like that, she hadn't been able to appreciate it." ), well, I think I've just answered your question, haven't I?

**Samster The Hamster**: Yep, Darla and Connor's meeting takes place in Chapters 12 and 13 of Two Single Parents. Check them out and then tell me what you think!

You think the chapter was awesome? Thanks! I'm getting quite fond of this renewed Darla, too. And I love to write all Darla/Spike parts, asI consider them two of the most interesting characters in Buffy. And about the latter and Spike... well, let's hope you're right for poor Spikey's sake.


	12. Episode 12

**Author's notes: **In this chapter, there's a not-very-polite reference to a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses. I swear I have nothing against Jehovah's Witnesses, neither any other religion, it's Darla the prejudiced one. Send her the hate mail.

Oh, and I'm going on a ten-day trip, so you'll have to wait for next episode. Sorry...

* * *

**Episode 12:**

'_Hello my friend, we meet again_

_It's been a while, where should we begin?_

_Feels like forever_

_Within my heart a memory _

_A perfect love that you gave to me _

_Oh, I remember'_

_**- 'My Sacrifice', by Creed - **_

It was a rather ordinary night. Slow, even. Darla had bored to death at her receptionist desk, with few guests to interrupt the monotony. Actually, the hotel, in spite of being placed in one of the most crowded streets of the West End, was deserted that night.

She'd already done nearly everything possible to entertain herself – by now, she'd learnt the old Cosmo magazine at hand by heart – and was trying to find an excuse to get away for a little while. Finally, she decided that a visit to the rest room would have to do. She called Sue, a coworker, over her shoulder and told her she'd be back in five.

Her escapade did not last, though. Within two minutes, Sue hurried into the bathroom.

'Darla, you're needed in Front Office.'

She rolled her eyes. 'God, can't Jagielski get off my back for five minutes?' Trent Jagielski was the Night Manager, and the word 'exploitative' was an understatement when describing him.

Sue shook her round head, her curls bouncing as she did so. 'Nope, it's not Jagielski. It's one of the guests.'

Darla frowned, and walked out the rest room. Usually, the guests called for the Manager to solve their problems, not the receptionist. The receptionist merely answered the phone and received the mail... which obviously wasn't much at this time of the night.

She saw the back of a man standing in front of her desk. She couldn't guess his age, but he was well-built and looked about medium height. He had light brown hair, almost dirty blonde, and his clothes, although casual, looked no cheap at all. In all, he looked exactly like the regular guest. Then why something about him made her freeze on the spot?

She stared at his back, her eyes widening. There was something about him, something that rang a bell somewhere in her brain. More than a bell: it was a fire alarm banging in her head.

As if he'd felt her pressence (and maybe, just maybe, he had) he turned around slowly, and long before she saw his familiar features, long before she saw the known blue eyes or his characteristic smile, she knew who he was, and the knowledge sent shivers down her spine.

Finally, he was facing her. His expression was unreadable as his gaze registered her, perhaps looking for changes, perhaps looking for similarities. Soon, though, the cool mask faded and a soft smile spread over his always juvenile face.

'Hello, Darla. It's been a while.'

* * *

He had been right, of course. It had been a long while since the last time they'd seen each other. In real time it had only been six years... but in their souls it had been much, much longer. So much had happened to both of them... Last time they'd seen each other, she was still soulless, still thoroughbly evil, and she'd just tore apart his heart. Last time they'd seen each other, he'd been a man who naïvely played to be evil, but was vulnerable inside, as he was slowly losing all his beliefs. She might have just shattered a few of them herself, she did not know. 

Lindsey, Lindsey McDonald. It was a name that hadn't been pronounced by her lips in a long time, a name that belonged to a man she had tried not to think about, as she tried not to think about all those nameless people she'd caused so much suffering, but still haunted her sleep. Lindsey, the only who had truly cared for her during the time she'd been so weak and helpless at Wolfram and Hart's mercy – as if they could have had any mercy – the only one who had tried to reach her. Lindsey, the one she'd hurt the most without lifting a finger. Lindsey, who was sitting right in front of her at the fancy café he'd insisted on taking her to, as if no time had passed.

But what did she know about this man called Lindsey McDonald, anyway? She'd never bothered too much to find out details about his life, being engrossed as she was, first by keeping herself alive and safe, later by trying to seek the power that would prevent her from being helpless once more. He'd never been her first concern.

She recalled he'd liked to listen to country music, and that he'd had a nice voice, that sometimes sang to her softly when she couldn't sleep due to the nightmares. He could cook rather well, and he took a shower every evening after work, as though he were trying to get rid of the ethereal dirt on his soul. He had come from Oklahoma, running away from a poverished household and a miserable past; he wanted to have all the things he hadn't known when he'd been young. He wanted power, and success, and money, and he was willing to go far to get them...but not so far as he'd once thought. And he'd loved her.

She'd once known all those things. But now, now things weren't like they'd used to be. She no longer was the scared creature that had seeked for his protection, neither she was the evil manipulator that had used him to gain power. And if he wasn't the man she'd met, who was he?

'So,' she asked, trying to sound casual, 'how did you find me?'

He shrugged, giving her that cocky smile she'd almost forgotten.

'Easy. Wyndam-Pryce told me.'

Darla raised an eyebrow, surprised.

'How weird. Last time we met, you weren't exactly on speaking terms with Wesley and the others.'

'Well, no,' he admitted, 'but neither were you, right? Anyway, he owed me one, as I made him a favour with a little legal problem with one of the new Slayers.'

Darla looked apalled. 'Oh, please, tell me that's not another Faith...'

'Oh, no, no,' he hastened to reassure her, waving a hand. 'No, it was just that her parents wouldn't let her go out her country, and as she was underage...'

And so he began to explain her the problems Wesley had had with the girl in question's parents, a couple of narrow-minded Jehovah's Witnesses, according to Lindsey. They had considered a blasphemy what Wesley had told them about Slayers, and they had obviously forbidden their daughter to get involved with any of it. Darla snorted. Getting a soul hadn't changed that much the opinion she had for too ferverously religious people. Lindsey, however, had managed to solve the problem somehow, and now the girl was happily getting trained at Giles' school.

Once he'd finished his story, Darla tilted her head to one side and eyed him thoughtfully.

'I guess you know more or less what happened to me, don't you?'

Lindsey took a sip of his coffee as he nodded. He left the cup on the table and said:

'Pryce told me a little about it. And Gunn, too.'

Her eyes widened in surprise.

'Where have you seen Gunn? I haven't heard from him in ages.'

'LA. I'd heard there was some demoniac activity going on, so I went there to... well, to check whether Wolfram and Hart could be rising from its ashes or something.' He took another sip of his coffee. 'It wasn't, thanks to God. Seems that the one who blasted Wolfram and Hart's LA branch did a hell of a job.'

Darla suddenly remembered the days of The First, when dead people and mythical creatures came to hunt the living; the girls that had died during the battle; the school falling over their heads (_they had been so close to die in there, so close_) and shivered. Yeah, The First had done a good job, like it'd done with the old Watcher's Council.

'So we crossed paths there. He's now helping in a shelter for runaway teens, with a girl called Anne Steele... You don't know about her, do you?'

But Darla wasn't that interested in the unknown girl.

'He's in LA, you say? But what about Fred? She's living in Chicago, or so Wesley told me...'

Lindsey looked confused. 'Fred who?'

'Brunette, big brown eyes, Texan accent? Gunn's girlfriend?'

He frowned. 'I don't know, but I doubt they're still together. Anne and him seemed to be... close.'

'Oh.' So another happy couple had met their sorry end. Well, she guessed she should feel happy for Gunn, if he'd managed to resume his life. And Fred wasn't the kind of girl that died from a broken heart. However, it still disappointed her. It seemed like she was getting soft, if mere break ups got to her that way.

She shot a quick glance at her watch and was shocked to see there was almost no time left for her to get home before daybreak.

'Sorry, Lindsey, but I gotta go before I fry in the sun.'

Had it been her imagination or he'd looked, for just a second, a little disappointed? She did not know, as the next moment Lindsey said casually:

'I could give you a lift.'

She hesitated the briefest moment.

'Sure. Thanks, Lindsey.'

Once they were inside the building, right in front of her apartment's door, Darla had an impulse.

'You wanna come in? I mean, if you don't have to work tomorrow or something,' she quickly added. He looked perplexed, but then he broke in a smile.

'No, I don't have to, and yes, I'd love to.'

That morning, they talked. And talked. Darla's fears that she might have nothing to say to this man that was almost a stranger were unfounded: soon she found out that there was so much to say, so much to ask, so much to explain. And so much to apologize for.

First, she asked him how came he'd left LA and Wolfram and Hart behind. He proceeded to tell her about his new hand and where had it came from.

'I had nightmares for months. The people in those tanks...they kept haunting me for quite a while, y'know.'

Darla nodded knowingly. 'Yeah, I kinda have experience on that field myself.' Only that the list of people that haunted her dreams was much longer than Lindsey's could ever have been.

He told her he'd gone back to his hometown in Oklahoma, only to find that nothing was like he'd left it. Everything he'd known had been vanished and replaced, and the town he'd grew up in had disappeared. He realised there was nothing left for him there, and he went to New York instead. He tried to start a normal life, hoping that the files he'd stolen from W&H would keep him safe. It wasn't necessary: LA's branch got blasted, and nobody gave a damned about him anymore.

But normalcy wasn't working for him that well, not after all the horrors he'd seen.

'I realised it wasn't enough with just stopping to do evil. I needed to do something to make up for everything I'd done.'

'So you tried for soul-saving?'

He chuckled. 'That sounds so Angel-like, doesn't it? Well, it wasn't exactly soul-saving. It was more helping people who got in legal – well, as legal these things usually are – trouble because of Wolfram and Hart's wannabes: demon clans, bloodsucking firms – the usual suspects. And then, only a few months ago, I crossed my path with Pryce and I decided to lend him a hand.' He shifted in his seat and admitted: 'Honestly, I wanted him to tell me something about you. I'd gotten a little curious after what Gunn had told me – or slipped.'

She lifted an eyebrow, a gesture that'd become her trademark over the centuries, according to Spike, and smiled.

'If you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask.'

And so she told him all that had happened to her, all the things neither Wesley nor Gunn could have known. The only people she'd spoken so freely about the times right before and right after the recovery of her soul had been Faith and Spike. However, it wasn't hard at all to talk Lindsey about it. In fact, it felt liberating.

They talked and talked, but they carefully avoided the subject of Angel. Instead, Lindsey told her some things he'd found out about Sahjaan and the night Connor had disappeared.

'It seems that the demon's intention all this time was to use Holtz to get to your son, not Angel. But somewhere along the way he began to distrust Holtz, and tried to pact with the Devil – Wolfram and Hart. It didn't turn out very well, from what I've heard.'

Darla snorted. That was an understatement. Holtz had found out Sahjaan's true intentions, and he'd set out to kidnap Connor himself, supposedly in order to protect him. Sahjaan had just caught him and his second-in-command, Justine, as they ran away with Connor, and sent them to the hell dimension called Pylea, where they stayed for five years. Well, it had been five years in Pylea, but in this side of the rainbow it only had been some weeks.

According to Wesley, though, Sahjaan's original intention hadn't been sending them to a Pylea, but to a much worse dimension, one they wouldn't have been able to return. However, his plans had gone awry as he had been forced to act while the urn Justine had opened had started to capture him.

'It was a terrible blow for Wolfram and Hart.' The grim satisfaction in his voice soon faded away, and he sighed. After all, it might have been a blow for W&H, but the good guys hadn't come out very well from the whole ordeal. Darla suddenly remembered something, and she would have liked to slap herself for not thinking about it sooner.

'What about Lilah? I never heard what happened to her...'

Lindsey sighed again. 'I don't know. She might have died when W&H burnt to ashes – but if she had had something to do with the whole Sahjaan's disaster, and I suspect she had, then the Senior Partners would have taken care of her sooner than that. After all, she didn't have a clean record, and at Wolfram and Hart they don't give you much chances to screw up.'

There was sadness underlying the bitter comment, although Lindsey and Lilah had hated each other. Darla was not surprised, though. Some enmities lasted so long that sometimes you ended up feeling closer to your enemies than to your allies. _You just have to take a look at Spike and I. _Didn't the old saying state "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer"?

After several hours, it was finally time for Lindsey to go. He gave her his cell phone number first, and she said she would call him... and this time, for some reason, she didn't feel it was a blatant lie.

When they reached the door, she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

'Lindsey, I...'

She looked right into his blue eyes and suddenly she was at a loss of words. How could she begin to apologize for all she had done? It was impossible, incommensurable...

He pressed a slender finger on her lips.

'Darla, don't. Just... Just call me, okay?'

She nodded, and he bent to kiss her cheek. And then, he just walked away in the sunshine.

* * *

**Imzadi: **I bet I know what was the first thing you thought when you finished reading this chapter: _Finally! It was about time Lindsey showed up!_ Well, yes, here he is at last. Whether he is going to stay or not is another story... 


	13. Episode 13

**Episode 13:**

'_All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places, Worn out faces_

_Bright and early for the daily races_

_Going nowhere, Going nowhere_

_Their tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, No expression_

_Hide my head I want to drown my sorrows_

_No tomorrow, No tomorrow_

_And I find it kind of funny, _

_I find it kind of sad_

_These dreams in which I'm dying _

_Are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, _

_I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles its a very very_

_Mad World, Mad World'_

_**- 'Mad World', byGary Jules- **_

The streets were wet although there was no rain. It wasn't necessary: the wetness never seemed to leave the pavement, as the fog never abandoned the air.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to scrutinize the way ahead through the myst. A faint, eerie light illuminated a deserted alley full of trembling shadows. Without thinking, without hesitating, she rushed into it. There was no time to think, no time to waste: they were coming. They were coming after her, and if they got her... If they got her, then all would be over.

Her feet barely touched the ground, almost not making no sound at all, as she ran for her life. The walls surrounding her blurred, and her sight blurred too so she no longer saw where she was heading, but she did not stop running. She couldn't.

She tried not to think about what would happen if she faltered, tried not to think in the way they were getting closer by every passing second, and instead focused on placing one foot in front of the other. Step by step, she was trying to escape from her hunters. Step by step, she was trying to escape from her fate. But her fate was already sealed.

She saw the brick wall in front of her a second too late, and barely had time to stretch out her arms before collapsing against it. As she saw bright stars dancing in front of her eyes, she heard a ringing laughter in her ears.

She didn't want to turn around. She already knew what she'd see.

Monsters. They looked human, but they were monsters. And she, she was the worst of them all, with her clear eyes and her golden hair, with her ivory fingers and her killer stare...

'Dear, dear girl. You have certainly been fun to hunt.'

And she felt a tight grip on her shoulders as she was forced to turn around, and her eyes met blue ones turned golden, an angelic face turning into its demoniac visage, and as the fangs buried on her neck, red blood stained the pavement.

* * *

Darla woke up with a start.

It took her a moment to realise she wasn't in the shadowed alley anymore, but in the familiar surroundings of her bedroom.

Her mouth was dry, her fingers had twisted the sheets and a thin layer of cold sweat covered her body. Had she been human, her heart would would have been pounding inside her chest and she would have been panting. But she was no human, and a lot of time had passed since the last time she'd panted out of nerves.

She pushed away the covers, turned and jumped from the bed. The floor was shiveringly cold under her feet, but that was okay. Cold was nice, cold she was used to.

She walked through the platinum myst that engulfed the hallway, and altered as she walked by the patterns and the shapes the shadows and the moonlight had drawn on the floor.

Once in the kitchen, she walked straight to the fridge, opened it and took out a jar of juice. She drank right from it, not bothering to look for a glass. She drank until there was not a single drop of juice left, she drank although she knew her thirst wouldn't be satisfied with mere juice. But she couldn't drink blood right now, not right after the dream.

When she left the jar on the table with a clatter, she realised that her hands were shaking from the memory.

_Take a grip, Darla. _

She closed her eyes. Images of the dream flooded to her mind, the terror in the girl's eyes, her vibrant blood painting London's eternally wet pavement, the sweet taste of fear on her lips...

Her eyes snapped wide open. _Don't go there._.

Instead, she kept her eyes open. The kitchen was covered in shadows that created the illusion of movement and gave the impression that there were things lurking in the dark.

Darla shook her head. She couldn't believe that she, one of the most feared vampires in history, was afraid of the dark. And yet, since she'd gotten her soul back, she hadn't felt as comfortable with darkness as she'd once been. As she'd told Spike once, she no longer truly belonged to the night. Once, night had been her playground. Now, it was the time when ghosts came to haunt her.

For some strange reason, Darla dreamed very rarely of those she'd killed or destroyed. Instead, her dreams were haunted by all those she hadn't been able to save: Molly, Vi, and the other Potentials fallen dead at her feet; those poor people that were slaughtered when she didn't get in time to save them during her patrols, and so many others...

And sometimes, her dreams were tainted with visions of a dark future, in which she was the only one standing in a never-ending desert covered with dead bodies, and there was blood, always the same damned blood on her hands... And she knew that blood, like Lady Macbeth's, wouldn't wash away no matter how hard she tried... It was the blood of the innocent, staining her hands once more. And this time, there was no salvation possible for her.

She shook her head. She was starting to sound like Angel. He was always brooding because of all the evil he'd done, and he complained that he'd never be able to make up for all of it... Darla had never been that foolish. She'd always known that she'd never be able, no matter how many centuries she kept walking through this land, to make up for half of the crimes she'd committed. And she wouldn't try to. She wasn't seeking for Redemption the way Angel had done, she wasn't looking for a prize on her good behaviour at the end of the road. Because she already knew there wouldn't be one.

She was just trying to make the best out of the time she'd been given. And at this moment, that was more than enough to occupy every second of her days and nights.

* * *

As soon as she arrived at the Slayer's School and was greeted by Giles' somber face, she knew there were no good news. Effectively, Giles wasted no time to fill her in.

'It's the third one we find in two weeks. And honestly, we still don't have a clue of what is going on.'

Darla examined the crude photographs in which a red-haired young woman, no older than 25, laid spread on a white table. She narrowed her eyes and repaired on the marks all over her chest. As if she'd been opened and then stitched back together again...

'Let me guess. Missing heart?'

Giles nodded somberly. Andrew, who was right behind him (he always took care to keep a little distance from Darla), cleared his throat pompously.

'_Exactly_. The proof shows that all the victims were cut open so their hearts were removed, and then put back together again. Afterwards, their bodies were abandoned very close to the streets these poor women disappeared in the first place. We still have not found signs of dark magic, as they used a conventional scalpel to perform the surgery, and neither did we find any clues that could lead us to one of our usual suspects. However, I believe this has to be the work of a satanist cult of some kind. The reasons are varied. It could be a ritual to gain power, a sacrifice to an evil god, or...'

'A way to awake some ancient evil?'

Andrew shut his mouth close at Darla's words, and she was glad to see that the pompous pseudo-Watcher was still able to blush.

'Or perhaps they are just mad people that have nothing better to do with their lives.' She grimaced. 'It wouldn't be the first time.'

Giles sighed. 'No, it wouldn't. Or it could just be a serial killer. However, I'm not sure we can rely on the police this time, although our contact there remains as useful as ever,' Giles made a gesture to indicate the photographs and files on his desk, 'but given the time of the year...'

Darla spoke before Andrew dared to. 'Season the Aztecs made their sacrifices?'

'That's right. It could be a coincidence...or not.'

She nodded. 'Alright. So what's the link between them?'

Giles looked through his notes. 'All of them were over 20 twenty years old but below 25; all of them healthy; all of them with the reckless habit of walking alone at night. All of them were alive at the time of the surgeon, but with a heavy dose of anesthesic. And they all semed to live in your neighbourhood.'

Darla startled. 'What?'

She grabbed Giles' files, and realised he was right. The three of them had been abducted within blocks from her apartment. In fact, one of the abductions had taken place only a couple of streets away from the dinner she used to work at.

'I knew it was a crappy hood when I moved in, but now it has reached a whole new level of evilness.' She handed the files back to Giles. 'So, what's the plan?'

Giles exchanged a meaningful look with Andrew and hesitated a brief moment. Darla frowned.

'Well, first of all, all the girls from now on will patrol in groups of three, and they'll focus their efforts in the aforementioned whereabouts. And then – well, then I thought that maybe you could contact your – erm, friend – Mr. McDonald. Both of you have many contacts in the underworld.'

Darla raised an eyebrow. So Giles had finally heard the rumours that the reason she'd been seeing Lindsey so much the last couple of months was they were dating. If it hadn't been such a serious matter, she would have made an acid comment about it, but she had more important things to worry about right now.

Like Jack the Ripper II, for instance. Or not letting Connor come to her place until the matter was solved.

* * *

Lindsey and Darla walked side by side, through which had to be the worst zone of London. Victorian's Whitechapel had looked like an idyllic town in comparison to some of the stuff she'd seen that night, and she wasn't an easy one to impress. Humankind always seemed to come out with new ways to make their pitiful lives even sorrier, and when demons and vampires were added to the mix, the result could be a nightmare.

Giles had been right. Between Lindsey and Darla, they knew every sorrowful hole of the underworld. However, they hadn't been lucky yet. Lindsey had used all of his diplomacy whereas Darla had given her best smiles and her worst glares without luck, and not even bribing or cracking a few bones did the trick.

'Sorry to have dragged you to this. I bet you have better things to do on a Friday night than hunt for a Jack the Ripper's wannabe.'

Lindsey chuckled.

'Actually, no. My social life's never been... well, you know, thrilling. And I'm glad to help you out. You know you can always count on me with this, and with other stuff as well.'

Darla nodded and gave him a sincere smile. In the two months that had followed their first encounter, Lindsey had became a great source of support for Darla, especially after Faith left England and Spike had began travelling around the globe with Buffy. She hoped that she was as supportive with him as he was with her. Lindsey seemed terribly lonely. He'd always been a loner, but before the sad look in his eyes hadn't been so noticeable. Or perhaps she'd been too cold-hearted to see it. Anyway, she was trying to make it up for the way she'd treated him in the past but mostly, she enjoyed his camaraderie. God knew they both needed a little light in their lives.

'Well, seems like our Rippers haven't gone out his night,' Lindsey said. Darla had to agree with him, when a distinct smell filled her nostrils. _Oh, shit..._

She broke into a run, Lindsey following suit, until she fell on her knees beside a white form that lay on the sidewalk.

She turned it around, and distinguished the anguished features of a young woman in her early twenties. Linsdey kneeled to check her pulse, but there was no need for that: from the smell, she'd been dead at least one or two hours.

Darla ripped open the woman's white shirt and wasn't surprised to see the already familiar marks on her chest.

Lindsey cursed when he saw this. 'Looks like we have another victim,' he said in a hoarse voice. When he didn't get an answer from Darla, he turned to face her, but she was uncapable to move. Suddenly, she realised there was something very wrong with the woman's features. Something very familiar. She could never forget a face...

_A blur of green and white passed past them, accompanied by the distinct sound of sobbing... _

_...one of the youngest waitresses sitting on a box, her hands hiding her face..._

'_It's L-Little Jo-Joey. He said...'_

'Her name's Karen.'

'How do you...?' Lindsey's eyes widened. 'Oh. From where?'

'My first job at the dinner.' Darla's tone was detached, but Lindsey wasn't that easily fooled.

'C'mon, Darla. Let me take you home. Giles can take care of this.'

Darla let herself be guided away from the body, the body of a girl she'd once seen full of life, a girl who's once had a name, and a life, and a future...

Poor Karen. She'd been a victim until her very end.

_There goes another one I couldn't save. Another face to haunt my dreams._

_But I promise you one thing, Karen: whoever did this to you will pay.

* * *

_

'Stop the truck.'

'What...?'

'Stop the damned truck _now_.'

Trey looked through the window and realised what had made his friend so anxious.

'Oh, no, Kevin, not again...'

On the sidewalk, there was a young woman. Her hair covered half of her face, but she seemed to be absorbed in her thoughts and wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, and instead she walked looking at the floor.

'She's perfect.'

His friend's voice had reached again that high, frantic note that sent shivers down Trey's spine. _No, please, don't force me to do this again, not again..._

Kevin had already taken out the tranq darts gun and was aiming through the open window.

'What are you waiting for? Stop!'

For the briefest second, Trey was tempted to press the accelerator and save that poor woman's life. But they had gone too far to stop now.

Besides, if Kevin had already killed four people and was getting ready to kill the fifth, who could say he couldn't kill six?

Kevin's aim was superb. The dart stung the woman's neck, who fell to the ground with a thump. Kevin jumped from the truck and dragged her in within seconds.

Without hesitating, without second thoughts, Trey accelerated once more and got ready for what was coming next.

* * *

Giles expectantly watched Lindsey and Andrew, whose eyes shone with a blue gleam that came from the screen.

'The transmitting device is on. It has worked,' Andrew said. 'They've taken Darla.'

* * *

'I'm ready. How's she?'

'Let me check her pulse...' A long, heavy pause and a yelp. 'She's got no pulse!'

'What the hell are you talking about? She was alive and walking five minutes ago... Let me see...' A curse was heard. 'Holy shit. She's really dead. How the hell did this happen?'

Another long pause.

'Perhaps there was something wrong with the dose you gave her. Perhaps she knocked her head on the way here. Who cares? We can't go on, Kev. It's over.'

'No!' an anguished, frantic voice cried. 'No, we can't stop now, no when we are so close... It's doesn't matter she's dead, really. We still have time.'

Wavering waters engulfed her thoughts and everything was blurry and confusing. Suddenly, there was a moment of blinding clarity, when she could almost grasp a thought... then it was gone and she returned to darkness, as she slipped in and out of consciousness.

Slowly, she returned to awareness, although her mind was still dizzy and there seemed to be a whirlwind inside her skull. She heard the voices again, two male voices arguing. With effort she managed to make out what they were saying.

'Kevin, you're out of your mind. Don't you realise it's already too late?'

A thump was heard, followed by the sound of clattering.

'Don't. Say. That. It's not too late. I can do this. And you'll help me.'

Darla dared to peek through her eyelashes. Wherever she was, it was much more illuminated than she'd expected. The ceiling was low and the bit of the walls she could see reminded her of a basement, but she couldn't be sure. She could hear a beeping sound somewhere near her head, and then muffled steps approacing her.

She shut her eyes close and the steps walked away. She focused on the smells surrounding her. Yep, it was definately a basement of some sort, but there was another smell: antiseptic. Why anyone would bother to use antiseptic in a basement was beyond Darla's reasoning right now. Instead, she tried to move her arms, then one of her legs... It was no use. Was she tied up? Funny, because she didn't feel the grip of the ropes on her wrists and anckles. Actually, she realised she wasn't feeling anything at all. All her muscles had turned coldly numb.

_They've mentioned a dose... Anesthesic? Tranq darts? Something else?_

But she was almost completely conscious... Then she remembered that drugs worked differently on vampires than on humans. Her captors hadn't probably been aware of that tiny detail. Boy, they were in for a surprise.

However, she couldn't move a finger yet. Hell, she didn't remember how she was supposed to move it. She was so numb, so unable to feel...

So much like a corpse.

She heard steps coming closer again, and peeked through her lashes. She distinguished a guy wearing some green robes, with an also green cloth covering half of his features... _Funny. It doesn't look so much like a satanist cult, but more like..._

She heard a slashing sound, and a liquid pouring from somewhere around her chest... She tried to see, and to her shock, she realised her own chest was bleeding. And she still felt nothing...

But that wouldn't last for long.

* * *

'What's wrong?'

'I don't know,' Andrew stuttered at Lindsey's piercing glare. 'The transmission just stopped.'

Lindsey ran a hand through his already messy hair. 'Can it be broken? Can something interfere with it?'

Andrew frowned in concentration. 'No, but if they were under ground, that would explain it.'

Lindsey snorted. 'Great. Just great...'

'I've checked the number on the license plate, with one of the girls' aid,' Giles announced. 'Name's Trey Dubois, and he doesn't have a criminal record. Actually, nothing of what I've read about him makes him look like a fanatic, but...'

'Let's check with the Internet,' Lindsey suggested, glad to find something he could do. He wrote the words 'Trey Dubois' in his computer, and when the results came Giles and Andrew peered over his shoulder. The latter let out a yelp.

'Uh-oh. I think we've just found out why our Ripper needs so desperately a new heart...'

* * *

Feeling slowly flooded through her muscles, but she still couldn't move a limb. First, she felt the coldness of the sharp knife against her chest, then she felt her skin being ripped and the blood pouring from the wound, pouring and sliding...

And then came the pain. Unbearable, blinding pain, as her chest was ripped open, as blood flooded her chest and red, vibrant drops stained the floor...

_That girl's blood, staining the wet pavement... Darla remembered what she'd done to her, what she'd done to her before fully draining life out of her... She remembered her nails ripping her chest, she remembered snatching her heart out of her with her bare hands... She remembered clutching the bleeding heart in her hand, blood running down her arm, the rich smell of it filling her nostrils, her mouth watering in advance..._

And now, it was her heart the one that was going to be snatched out from her chest.

* * *

'We have to find her, _now!_'

'Mr. McDonald, we are aware of that fact. Trust me, we are going to do so, but please, calm yourself down.'

Giles' calm voice didn't ease Lindsey, though. 'You don't understand, we can't waste more time...'

'Well, it's not like they're gonna kill her, is it? They won't use a stake...'

For a moment, it looked as if Lindsey would like nothing better than staking Andrew himself.

'Idiot! If you take out the heart of a vampire, he or she will die within a few hours!'

As dawning comprehension shone on Andrew's face, Giles turned to his walkie-talkie:

'Martina, get Team One ready. We are going in.'

* * *

The events that followed were fixed on Trey Dubois' mind until the day he exhaled for the last time, and he dreamed about them every night during the rest of his life.

Kevin had opened up the girl, just like he'd done with all the others. Despite being the fifth time he saw this, shivers went down Trey's spine when he saw the girl's chest ripped open like Pandora's box, and the bleeding heart inside.

At least this time the woman was already dead, and he didn't have to watch the heart soon-to-be-extracted beating. Instead, the heart was peacefully still...which didn't explain how the hell blood kept pouring from the wound, really, but Trey wasn't the doctor after all, Kevin was the one at Med School, thank God. There probably was a reasonable explanation for a corpse that kept producing red blood.

The thing that probably did not have a reasonable explanation was that the corpse's eyes were now open, when before they'd been shut close. _Hold on a second..._

'Trey, you've got the container ready? I'm gonna take it out now.'

Trey was unable to answer. Instead, his gaze was glued to the corpse's right hand... his gaze was glued to the fingers, which were _trembling_.

_You're imagining things. It's just Kevin that's manhandling the body, that's it..._

Except that the lips were trembling now too. _It's an optic illussion, nothing else..._

And that tear strolling down her white cheeks was also an optic illussion?

'Kevin...'

'What, Trey?'

Trey's mouth dried. 'Kevin, you have to stop right now...'

Before he could finish that sentence, the basement's door flew open and at least dozen people broke into the place.

* * *

Faces, she was surrounded by faces... Molly, Vi, the other Potentials she hadn't been able to save, that teenager boy that had died in her arms after a vampire had drained him three weeks ago, Karen... She tried to think of Connor, Connor, with his radiant smile and his gleaming blue eyes; Connor, with his nine-years, so young and wonderful, so innocent and carefree...

But instead, her mind was flooded with images, not of those she had slaughtered, but of those she hadn't saved. Those that could have been alive right now, had she been a little bit quicker, a littler bit smarter... All those that were dead because of her incapability to save them from the darkness that had engulfed her so long ago...

And then the pain overwhelmed her and everything else faded in the shadows.

* * *

Andrew thought he'd never forget the vision in front of him. On top of a metallic table, lay Darla, surrounded by medical supplies and two men dressed up in green. And she was... Oh, God...

Andrew felt his stomach twisting when he saw her cut open, and oh my God, oh my God, he could see her heart...

The Slayers reduced the men easily, although one of them, an scalpel still clutched in his hand, struggled furiously. The other one just fainted.

Giles was the first to reach Darla.

'The pain will drive her mad...' he mumbled, and his eyes scrutinized his surroundings, until he found a syringe and a small bottle. He filled the syringe and stung it on Darla's arm, who stopped shaking violently to fall into unconciousness once more. Lindsey, his eyes wide in horror, had not lose his head, though. He'd taken out his cell phone and above the mayhem around them Andrew was barely to catch his words:

'Marvin, remember that favour you owed me? Time for payback. Get that Pockla you know as soon as you can or there'll be hell to pay.'

* * *

The following morning, londoners, as well as the rest of the population of Great Britain, learnt from the news broadcast the scary story of the two 21st Century Rippers. As it later transpired, Trey Dubois, 22; and Kevin Teuel; 25, were the men responsible of the kidnapping and murder of four young women in London.

But what shocked people the most was that they had ripped the girls' hearts before dumping them on the streets. Not only that, but they had also kidnapped a fifth young woman, who had been luckily been rescued by the Police before the surgery took place, due to an anonymous phone call. The woman's identity wasn't mentioned in order to preserve her privacy.

The news also informed that Rachel Dubois, Dubois' older sister and Teuel's fiancée, was waiting for a heart transplant. The reason for the murders became obvious.

* * *

'Are you sure you wanna do this?'

Darla looked up at Lindsey's worried face and gave him a faint smile.

'Completely.'

She and Lindsey were sitting in two hideously uncomfortable plastic chairs, looking through a glass. She felt a deja vu as Trey Dubois was escorted into the room...but he didn't look as confident as Faith had once done in the same situation. In fact, he looked terrified, and his terror did nothing but grew when he spotted Darla

'You were dead! I knew you were dead!'

_I know I was._ Dubois' eyes were glinting with a maniac gleam.

'You... You were supposed to be dead!'

Darla raised an eyebrow.

'Funny. You aren't the first one to tell me that.'

On the other hand, Teuel didn't seem hysterical or terrified when Darla faced him. Instead, his hands were calmly entwined on his lap, and his face, although it was pale, looked almost normal.

'I'm not a criminal, ma'am. It doesn't matter what they say. I'm not a criminal.'

Lindsey shot him a freezing glare. 'Four dead women don't say the same.'

Teuel flinched, but his cool mask didn't waver. He turned to look Darla in the eye.

'I was just trying to save her, ma'am,' he said sadly. 'Is that a crime? I loved her, and I wanted she to live. I wanted to save her. Why couldn't I?'

Darla could feel Lindsey tensing next to her. She squeezed his shoulder and faced Teuel. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were warmer than Teuel could have expected.

'It's not a crime trying to save people, Kevin. But there are some people... There are some people we just can't save, no matter how badly we want to.'

* * *

Rachel Dubois, 24, received the heart she needed to live the same day of Darla's visit to the penitentiary. She was able to wake up from the coma and resume her everyday life.

What none of her relatives and friends dared to tell her was that the heart which was now beating inside her chest had once belonged to her boyfriend Kevin, who had committed suicide with a small razor that had mysteriously appeared in his own cell.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'm back for my trip, with a slightly darker and certainly much more morbid Episode. I hope you've liked it... or at least found it nearly as scary as I did when I wrote it. Comments? Suggestions? Then review!

**Imzadi:** I'm glad that you're glad about Lindsey's reappearance. Did that make sense? Well, anyway, I'm happy you've liked last Episode, and keep reading, because there'll be more Lindsey in the next Episodes, although I can't promise you'll like all of it...


	14. Episode 14

**Episode 14:**

'_I'm in love, I just can't wait_

_Tonight I have a date_

_I have a date with the cutest girl in town_

_I have a date and I'm the happiest boy around_

_I'm in love. I just can't wait 'cause tonight I have a date'_

_**- 'I Have a Date', by The Vandals - **_

'So,' Darla said, taking a look at their surroundings, 'where are they?'

Lindsey' brow furrowed. 'I'm not sure. According to my informant, they were bound to be here...'

They were at the hall of a fancy theatre, surrounded by dozens of people all dressed up in black tuxedos and colourful clothes of silk. Darla's gaze swept over the small groups of elegant people that were chatting excitedly, and over the marble stairs and golden banisters. She frowned too.

'I can't feel anything. Are you sure this is the place?'

Now Lindsey looked annoyed. 'She assured me they were going to be here tonight. After all, this is the only theatre in London they haven't attacked yet...'

A gang of vampires had developed a taste for attacking fancy theatres and operas, draining the members of the public and stealing the money. According to Lindsey's flippant informant, that night they were going to attack this very theatre. However, the play had already finished and Darla didn't have as much as glimpse of any other vampires, and she was supposed to be able to sense them.

'Well,' Lindsey said, annoyed, 'you bet I'll make her return my money after this fiasco...'

'I wouldn't do that.'

Lindsey was surprised by her words and turned to face her... but where moments ago Darla was standing, there was a sudden whirlwind of red silk as she launched herself forward at light speed. He cursed.

It seemed that the vampires had showed up after all...

* * *

An hour later, they were at her place, taking care of their mutual wounds, as Lindsey had refused to go to a hospital. 'If I go, they'll want to see you too,' he'd argued, 'and they're bound to notice you've got no pulse, right?'

Darla hadn't pushed the subject, and secretly had felt relieved that she wouldn't have to see a hospital again. It had been already a month since the attempt to rip her heart, but Darla still had nightmares with scalpels slashing her skin and the smell of blood and antiseptic filling her nostrils.

'Well, one thing's for sure: this dress is completely ruined,' she said, shooting a sad look at the pieces of red silk that had once been a beautiful – and rather expensive, at least for her – dress.

Lindsey snorted. 'Yeah, definitely these fancy clothes are no good for slaying. We should have worn soemthing else, but I guess I kinda hoped they wouldn't show up...'

Darla raised an eyebrow. 'And what would we have done, then?'

Lindsey shrugged and grimaced when a cut of his shoulder throbbed.

'Perhaps we could have enjoyed the play and then just gone to have dinner at some nice restaurant in the West End.'

Darla laughed. 'Geez, Lindsey, if you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask.'

Suddenly, a thick, dense silence fell upon them, and all the air of the room seemed to have been sucked away as Lindsey looked away and Darla's words sank in her mind.

Her brain started to race, and she began to examine those three months of camarederie and friendship they'd shared. Once or twice – all right, probably more often than that – Darla had entertained thoughts about Lindsey that certainly weren't fraternal. But that was hardly surprising, as Lindsey was an attractive man, smart and funny, and chivalrous, and brave... and all those things any woman would hope for, including the renewed and souled version of herself. But she'd hurt him so much already, that she did not dare to think...

'Lindsey,' she began hesitantly, and was startled when he jumped to his feet and strode towards the door.

'I'd better get going, it's getting late...'

'Lindsey, don't leave.'

He stopped dead on his tracks, and slowly, very slowly, he turned to face her. His blue eyes were wide with... fear? Sadness? Expectation? She couldn't read the expression on his eyes, or perhaps there were just too many feelings in them, all mixed.

'I... I wasn't expecting this,' she admitted. 'I thought... I hoped you had moved on me.'

Lindsey let out a sigh.

'I wasn't expecting this either. I mean... I _had_ moved on you.' He shook his head and walked back to the armchair and sank in it. In silence, Darla sat in front of him. 'I had moved on you. I changed, and I no longer was the fool who'd fallen in love with someone who'd never be able to love him back. And then I came back here and I met you.' He averted her eyes and his gaze, instead, fixed in some point mid-air. 'What I hadn't counted with was you changing too. I came here, and I saw you, and then I realised you were no longer the one I had fallen in love with. You were a completely different person. A better person. A person that... a person that could love back.'

He let out a humorless chuckle. 'And I was foolish enough to fall in love with _you_, who had just turned into the most amazing woman I ever met. I know you wanted nothing more than my friendship and I'm sorry. I... I'll go now.'

And with that, he stood up abruptly and headed to the door with long strides. It took her a moment to react.

'Lindsey, wait.'

He stopped again and turned, and she saw the heart-breaking sadness in his eyes. She stood up and, as if she were inside a strange dream, began to walk towards him slowly.

'I don't want to hurt you again.'

He gave her a faint smile, a tiny nod and turned to leave. His hand was already on the knob when Darla grabbed his arm, making him to turn... and then kissing him fully on the lips.

* * *

'Okay, so everything's ready,' Darla said, but despite her feigned confidence, she went to check the kitchen once more. 'All right, so here's Connor's favourite food, and for once I haven't burnt it... Oh, I forgot to buy him some Mars Bars, he loves them...'

'Darla, honey, stop,' Lindsey said, wrapping his arms around her waist. 'There's no reason to be nervous, I'm sure Connor'll take it well.'

In spite of his words, an hour later, when he stopped in front of Darla's door, Lindsey's hand hesitated before knocking.

After dating for three months, Darla and him had decided it was wise to tell Connor about their relationship. After all, the boy was already nine years old, and he had a right to know if his mother was in a serious relationship. It was healthier to tell him diplomatically, in a way he could grasp it easily, instead of blatantly lying to him. They were doing the right thing.

However, he didn't feel very confident himself. This was the first time he would see Connor, and despite listening to Darla talk about him for months, Lindsey did not know what to expect. Connor had had a very strange childhood, so probably he wouldn't be like normal children. Not like Lindsey had any experience at dealing with normal children, anyway.

Lindsey knew that he was being stupid, but he couldn't help wondering what would happen if Connor didn't take it well. Darla, from what he could see, had always overprotected Connor when she could. Would the boy feel jealous? And what if he didn't like Lindsey at all? He hadn't a clue of what Connor might like, or which his interests were. What could he talk about with him?

However, there was something else that troubled Lindsey's mind, although he didn't want to acknowledge it. Instead, he tried to bury the thought in the bottom of his mind, focusing in more mundane things. In spite of his efforts, the distressing idea kept lingering in his head, darkening all his other thoughts.

Lindsey's problem was that _he was just going to meet Angel's son._ It was stupid, but he couldn't get rid of the idea. Which was completely irrational. It was also Darla's child, after all.

Of course that, if he was one hundred per cent honest with himself, he would have had to admit that _that_ was exactly his problem. Despite of the years that had gone by, Lindsey still felt a pang of

_jealously? fury?resentment? hatred?_

pain everytime he remembered the night he'd found out Darla and Angel had slept together, and how much had it hurt to realise she preferred the vampire over him.

_and that child should have been mine, because I did love her, whereas he only used her_

Of course, he knew he was just being silly. Darla was, after all, an evil, soulless creature, whose primal instinct was to eat Lindsey alive. He was lucky indeed that she'd left him alive

_if only, of course, she'd have let me lay a finger on her, which obviously she never did and never would have. I wasn't nearly enough, was I?_

and not have killed him when she'd had the chance. She had had no conscience and no capability to love. He shouldn't have been surprised by her actions, neither should he have blamed her. Naturally, it still hurt when he thought about it

_should have run over him with the truck until he was dust_

but she had been a different being back then, and so had he, so he'd better move on. He raised his hand once more to knock, and his fist stopped in mid-air once more.

What if he looked _just_ like Angel? It would be dreadful to contemplate the face of his old enemy in the features of Darla's child. From what he'd been able to see in the pictures Darla had showed him, the boy took after his mother, but pictures not always portrayed people accurately. There were so many things a camera could not capture. He really, really didn't want to be reminded of Angel, not after all this time. It wasn't like he'd been happy for his demise,

_but I can't say I was that sorry either, can I?_

although he'd been shocked. Truth to be told, he'd always expected Angel to go with a bang, and the sound of trumpets, and perhaps a chorus of angels. And thunder and lighting, and a great war and a miracle.

_he was always such a drama queen_

He hadn't, though, and it still surprised Lindsey. But back to the matter at hand, he really didn't want to see Angel on Connor's face...

The door swung open, and Darla beamed on the doorstep.

'Lindsey, I was starting to worry! C'mon, Connor's here.'

And before he could do something, anything, she grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.

* * *

Lindsey's worst fears turned out to be unfounded. Connor didn't remind him of Angel at all. With his blue eyes and his fair skin, Connor's seemed a childish and male version of his mother. Even the way he raised his eyebrow was exactly alike.

Darla, whom to Lindsey's shock was showing true nervousness for the first time ever, introduced them. Connor had shaked Lindsey's hand and greeted him rather formally, to the man's inner amusement. Then he remembered that Connor had spent the first five years of his life raised by a psycopath from the 18th century and he no longer was amused by Connor's unnaturally formal ways.

At first, dinnertime was an awkward business. Connor wasn't very talkative, and his eyes seemed to be digging a hole in Lindsey's as the child watched intently his every move, which didn't help the man to feel as comfortable as usual. He got the impression he was going through some mysterious exam in the child's eyes, and he had no idea of what would make him fail. On the other hand, Darla tried to sound cheerful and casual, but she was obviously doing something very wrong indeed, as Connor kept throwing her curious glances.

Ice was finally broken when Lindsey casually mentioned that he'd forgotten his guitar at Darla's. Connor's head jerked up, and his eyes shone with curiosity.

'You've got a guitar? Can I see it?' Suddenly remembering his manners, he hastened to add: 'If it doesn't inconvenience you, please.'

Lindsey had to suppress his laughter at the boy's solemn tone, and as soon as dinner was over he proceeded to show Connor the guitar. The boy's eyes widened in surprise.

'It doesn't look at all like Spike's.'

Darla caressed Connor's head. 'Of course not, sweetie. Spike's guitar works with a plug, like the TV.'

Dawning comprehension shone on the child's face. 'Oh, I get it. It's _eclectical_.'

Darla and Lindsey exchanged an amused glance, and after some minutes Connor asked if Lindsey was planning to stay in England for long.

'Because Spike and Faith never stay much time, and Mum's other friend, Mr.Giles, is too old to talk with, although he knows a lot of stuff.'

Lindsey remembered that Darla had commented that Connor had seen Spike and Faith many times now, and that he seemed to worship them. He couldn't help wondering whether he should tell Darla to worry about it or not.

'I hope I won't have to leave soon.'

'Oh,' was Connor's reply, and he dropped the subject, focusing instead on the intriguing guitar that worked without magic or electricity, which Connor considered as "Muggle magic".

While Connor watched TV, Lindsey helped Darla doing the washing-up.

'I think it's going rather well, don't you?' He asked her tentatively. She turned to face him and grinned.

'I think you're doing it really great, if that's what you're intending to ask.'

He grinned and kissed her through the bubbles, and she gigled like a young child. As he watched her, it hit him how much she looked like Connor. He was really his mother's son.

When he was about to leave, Darla got a phone call from Giles and answered the phone in her bedroom. As soon as she was out of earshot, Connor approached Lindsey.

'My friend Jacob's parents got divorced a few years ago, you know, and now his dad has a new girlfriend.' Lindsey startled and eyed Connor' face carefully, but the child's expression was unreadable. 'I've been thinking. If his mother got a boyfriend, it wouldn't be weird at all, would it?'

'Well, no, of course not,' Lindsey replied slowly. Connor seemed pensive.

'And Geoffrey's dad died. It wouldn't be weird either if his mum dated somebody else, right?'

Lindsey kept eyeing Connor intently, but nothing in the boy's face gave away his thoughts.

'No, that wouldn't be weird at all either.'

Connor seemed to ponder about his words for a few moments, and then gave a satisfied nod.

'I thought so, too. So,' he added abruptly, 'you're my Mum's boyfriend, aren't you?'

* * *

**Imzadi: **Well, I hope this episode cheers you up, at least for now! I had to write a little more cheerful episode after the last one, which was quite scary and depressing - although this one has a couple of dark moments. Tell me what you think!


	15. Episode 15

**Episode 15:**

'_Mama never loved her much_

_And daddy never keeps in touch_

_That's why she shies away from human affection_

_But somewhere in a private place_

_She packs her bags for outer space_

_And now she's waiting for_

_The right kind of pilot to come_

_(and she'll say to him)_

_She's saying_

_I would fly you to the moon and back_

_If you'll be, if you'll be my baby_

_Got a ticket for a world where we belong_

_So, would you be my baby?'_

_**- 'To The Moon And Back', by Savage Garden - **_

Darla and Lindsey were enjoying a quiet evening indoors, only a few days after Connor's and Lindsey's first meeting, which had gone rather well, as the child seemed to have got a liking to Lindsey. He'd written to his mother saying that he thought Lindsey was alright, and that he didn't mind her dating him. There weren't words to describe the wave of relief Darla felt when she read that.

So Darla and Lindsey were enjoying a quiet evening indoors, listening to music and drinking Chardonnay, when an insistent knocking was heard on the door. Frowning, and wondering who on earth could it be, Darla left her glass on the coffee table and rose from her seat.

'Darla, maybe it'd be better if I go...'

She shot him an amused look. 'I think I can handle this by myself, Lindsey.' She liked his chivalry, but sometimes it was plainly ridiculous.

'Who's it?'

'Bloody Santa Claus, pet. Have you been bad this year?'

Snorting withlaughter, Darla hastened to open the door.

'Spike, why didn't you tell me you were coming...? Oh, hi, Buffy. Er... Nice to see you. Nice tan.'

Buffy smiled at her, a little awkardly. 'Nice to see you too, Darla.'

They stood at the doorframe for a few moments, which for some reason were hideously uncomfortable.

'Hey, come in.'

Spike, who'd already been at her place more than once, walked in confidently (although Darla doubted Spike would feel uncomfortable _anywhere_) whereas Buffy took a couple of tentative steps inside and cast a curious and appreciative look around.

'It's really... nice, Darla. Stylish and...nice.' It seemed that 'nice' would be the word of the evening.

'Thanks, Buffy,' Darla said, and refrained the impulse to add: "It's _nice_ from you to say so."

There was another awkward pause during which Darla and Buffy averted each other's eyes, until the former's gaze fell on the temporary forgotten Lindsey.

'Oh, sorry. Lindsey, these are Spike and Buffy. Guys, this is Lindsey McDonald.'

Spike eyed him intently.

''Lo, law-boy.'

Lindsey, who'd just stretched out his arm so Spike would shake his hand, hesitated a second and shot Darla a questioning glance. From behind Spike, Darla waved her hand as if saying 'ignore it.'

Buffy was frowning in concentration.

'Oh, I know where I've heard your name before. You used to be that lawyer from Wolfram and Hart, weren't you?'

Darla's head jerked up as Lindsey blinked, slightly bewildered.

'Yeah, that's me, although I quit many years ago. Where did you hear about me?'

_Please, tell me it was not Angel._

'Oh, I think Faith might have mentioned you, once.'

_Almost as bad._

'Well, don't stay standing there. Sit down, c'mon. Do you want something to drink?'

'Actually, pet, we came here for a not-so-happy reason.'

Darla sighed. 'Don't tell me. Giles called you here for that thing that's rising in Ireland?'

Spike nodded grimly. 'That's right. Buffy and I were there las' week, and saw it firs' hand. And it's not pretty.'

Darla closed her eyes. These things were _never_ pretty.

'I've already told Giles that I don't have the slightest idea of what's going on, so unless you have a clue...'

'I got one,' Spike cut her in. 'Or, at least, I know of somebody who will.'

She raised her eyebrow. 'Well? Who is it?'

Spike shrugged.

'I was thinking about the Potions Master.'

Darla stared at him, as Lindsey and Buffy frowned as though they thought he'd gone nuts. Her eyes widened in understanding.

'Of course! Severus must have a dozen books about this!'

'Severus Snape? The wizard,' Lindsey, who'd already been told about him by Darla, inquired as his frown deepened. Buffy eyed them all intently, until dawning comprehension shone on her face.

'You mean the guy who's taking care of... Connor?'

Darla idly wondered how much effort had it taken the Slayer to say the name, as if it were a dangerous disease or a foreign word, or maybe a little bit of both.

'The very same one.' Darla glanced at her watch. 'It's still early, I bet Connor hasn't gone to bed yet. I could go and pick the books tonight.'

'I'll go with you,' Lindsey said at once.

Darla hesitated. She didn't want to let Lindsey down, but he wasn't used to travelling by Floo Powder, and it was possible that Hogsmeade would not admit a Muggle. On the other hand, although she and Severus were now on civil terms – almost amiably, if someone like Severus Snape could be considered amicable– she did not think he'd take she suddenly showing up with Lindsey very well. After all, Lindsey was a stranger and, in the extremely cautious, nearly paranoid, wizard's eyes, a potential danger to Connor's safety. No, definitely going with Lindsey wasn't a good idea.

'I think it'd be better if I go with Spike, as Severus already knows him and all...'

'And I'm the one who's seen this thing,' Spike pointed out. At Darla's confused look, he explained: 'Buffy wasn't with me at the moment. There was a shoe sale or something.'

Ignoring the pun, Buffy said:

'Wait a moment... That means I'm not going, either? What am I supposed to do?'

Spike shrugged. 'Dunno. Listen to Darla's CD collection. Or chat with Cowboy here.' He took her face with his hands and bent to kiss her. She tensed, and then faintly kissed him back. 'It won't be long, pet, I promise.'

Buffy had an expression on her face which could only be described as 'pouty'. She clearly wasn't used to being left behind.

Lindsey, on the other hand, opened his mouth, then seemed to rethink it and closed it.

'Just take care, will you?'

Darla tried to hide her amusement. 'It's just picking up a book, Lindsey. What could possibly go wrong?'

Of course, that was always a poor choice of words...

* * *

As they walked in silence the few blocks that separated her apartment from The Leaky Cauldron, Darla reflected on the shock that seeing Spike and Buffy on her doorstep had been. 

For one thing, the couple was usually travelling around the globe, searching for new Slayers and every possible demoniac menace they could find. With all that, it was no surprise they didn't set foot in Britain that often.

Secondly, but no less important, Darla was shocked to see Buffy had agreed to accompany Spike to her apartment, when in the past she'd been so keen to avoid facing Darla if she could. And it wasn't like Darla hadn't felt pretty much the same way towards the Golden Slayer.

They weren't mortal enemies as they'd once been; in fact, Darla did not perceive Buffy as an enemy anymore. However, the months they'd spent working together to defeat The First hadn't been enough to make them bond, and the fact that Darla had sided with Faith when Buffy had been kicked out from her house – although her friends had done the same, and until this very day Darla still thought Faith had needed her aid much mor than Buffy – hadn't helped, either.

On the other hand, Darla had the distinct impression that Buffy was incapable to look at her and not be reminded of Angel, and the fact he was gone for good. Darla could see it in the way Buffy stiffened slightly everytime she was near her, and the way she averted her eyes, not to say the way she avoided to pronounce Connor's name.

Or perhaps it was just that certain scars ran too deep, or that they were not compatible, or that Darla still held a faint resentment for the way Buffy had treated Spike, or that Buffy held the same resentment because Angel had shared a son with Darla and not her. Whichever the reason was, the truth was that Buffy had always found a worthy excuse not to accompany Spike when he visited Darla, and that the few times they were in front of each were awfully awkward and uncomfortable. In all, Darla was truly surprised to find Buffy in her apartment, and she suspected that, either the matter at hand was really serious, or Spike had dragged her by surprise.

Before she could ponder further about the matter, Spike pulled her out from her reverie:

'So, the kiddo's alright?'

Darla nodded. 'He's doing great, and he'll probably be delighted to see you again.'

Spike tried his best not to show any signs of it, but Darla could tell he was pleased to hear this. Suddenly, though, he frowned.

'And what about the warlock? He ain't gonna throw us tomatoes when we show up, right?'

She laughed. 'No, I've told you, Spike, he's much more civil now. Almost friendly... if that adjective could be applied to Severus Snape, that is.'

They both laughed, and Darla realised she'd missed laughing like this with Spike. Lately, for some unknown reason, they hadn't laughed that much during their phone conversations. Darla got the impression Spike was a little tense for some reason... and now she'd seen the stiffness between him and Buffy, she began to wonder...

'So, how are you and Cowboy?'

Darla told him that they were alright, and saw her chance to pop in the question that was digging her skull.

'And how are you and Buffy doing?'

Spike shrugged indifferently. 'We're peachy.'

It didn't take a genius to figure out that, when Spike was indifferent about something, it was because there was something very wrong hidden undearneath. Darla would have liked to ask further, but she realised it was not the proper time. Besides, they'd just reached The Leaky Cauldron.

'Here we are, pet. Time to set things in motion.'

And damn well right he was, although he did not know it yet.

* * *

Certainly, for just having to pick up a book, Darla and Spike were taking an awfully long time. Linsey checked his watch for the hundreth time. Three hours and counting... 

Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then jumped to her feet and began to pace around the room. He shot her an annoyed glare. He wished she did not do so, because it made him even more nervous.

'D'you... do you think something...?'

'How would I know,' Lindsey cut her in in a tone that sounded more snappish that he'd intended. 'Darla's cell phone's out of service. I guess Spike doesn't have one, does he?'

Buffy came to a halt and shook her head grimly. 'He doesn't like technology that much. Unless it's TV or video games.'

Lindsey bit the retort, and Buffy resumed her pacing. God, she was annoying. The sound of her heels on the wooden floor was bound to drive him mad within minutes...

...event that was fortunately prevented by the insistent and miraculous ringing of his cell phone. Both of them startled, and Lindsey hastened to answer.

'Hello...? Darla? Where are you? Are you alright? What happened...? Yeah, OK, I'll let you answer.'

Buffy came closer and tried to listen, which given her supernatural hearing, probably wasn't a problem.

'Sorry, Lindsey, but something unexpected showed up, we'll tell you in a moment. Don't worry, we're both OK, and that goes for Buffy too, who's probably twisting her neck trying to listen...' Buffy winced, and had the grace to blush. 'Right now we've got something else to do, but we'll be back in no time.'

'But... what happened? Don't you want me to pick you up?'

Darla's voice, which before had sounded calming and somewhat apologetic, now had turned a little crisp.

'No, Lindsey, that's not necessary. Told you we'd be there in no time. See ya.'

And with no further explanation, she hung up.

* * *

As Darla pocketed her cell phone, Spike eyed her and frowned. 

'Sure you weren't a lil' rude with Cowboy?'

Darla sighed. 'Sometimes, he's a little too overprotective. Most of the time I think it's nice, but time like this...' She waved a hand, as if to indicate it was unimportant, and added: 'And we have something to discuss before telling them what happened.'

Spike nodded grimly. 'Drusilla.'

Both of them fell silent and averted each other's eyes. Darla noted that several people at the pub were shooting curious glances at them. She wasn't surprised: they looked as if they'd just returned from battlefield, despite Severus' magical efforts to cure their wounds and clean the blood from their clothes.

'So, let's recap,' Spike said, breaking the uneasy silence between them, 'OK? So let's see: the moron of Severus's father takes Connor for a walk and leaves him alone in fronf of tha' damned wood – by the way, _I_ want a personal chat with the ol' man for this – and Connor, bein' his father's son, doesn't resist the temptation and walks in. Right?'

She nodded sadly. When they had arrived at Severus' place, it had turned out that Mr. Snape, his father (who was staying for a while at his son's house and whom Darla had had the displeasure to meet), had taken Connor out for a walk, or so it seemed. Spike, Darla and Severus had been so engrossed in the latter's books that it took them a while to realise that Connor and Mr. Snape were taking too long. Then, Darla's bond with her child had sprang to life and she'd known he was in danger.

'Once in there, he's surrounded by bloody vampires, and their leader is none other than our mad Dru. Then you realise there's somethin' wrong, we ran to the forest, we slay vampires, I stay behind with Severus and Connor, and you ran after Dru. Would you mind telling me again what happened and what did she say?'

Darla closed her eyes, and let her imagination take her back to the depths of the Forbidden Forest, which just that night she'd found out why it was forbidden. She saw again the darkness closing in on her, the black trees that hid the forest from the moonlight, she felt the grass bending under her feet, she heard the eerie quietness of the woods...

And she saw her, with her dark hair and bright, insane eyes, which had widened in terror when Darla'd pinned her to a tree, a hand closing around her slender neck.

'She said... She said she'd come to see Connor. Her "Baby Brother", she called him. And she said we all had abandoned her: you, me, Angel. And then...' Darla swallowed. 'She said she'd given us a gift, and that we had wasted it. So I asked her if she intended to give Connor that,' Darla grimaced, 'gift. But she denied it.'

Spike tilted his head to one side. 'And what was she tryin' to do, then? 'Cause I'm sure as hell that I smelt Connor's blood on her.'

Darla shivered. 'She made him a scratch with her nails, while he was hypnotised. But I don't think she truly meant to hurt him, as weird as it sounds.' Reading Spike's thoughts on his face, she hastened to add: 'Neither do I think she was trying to turn him. See, she was very insistent on that point. She said he was light, and that it was "not allowed" to taint him.'

Spike's head jerked up. 'Not allowed? Not allowed by whom?'

She shrugged, defeated. 'No idea. That was the last piece of rational information I could get from her before those damned centaurs tried to kill us both. After that, she managed to escape, and I could not follow her, so...'

They both fell silent. Spike, Darla noted, was tearing apart a napkin.

'How d'you reckon she found him?'

Darla shrugged again. 'A vision, I guess.'

Spike shifted, uneasy. 'Don't you think... don't you think someone might've lent her a hand...?'

She pondered it for a moment, then shook her head.

'No, I don't think so. There aren't many that would be willing to rely on a nutter like Dru, and you've seen the pathetic henchmen she got. No, I got the impression she came up with this on her own.'

Spike did not answer, and instead seemed to dwell in somber thoughts.

'And is there any chance she shows up again?'

'Well,' said Darla, trying to sound more confident than she truly felt, 'I made fully clear that she'd better stay away from Connor, and that it would be better for her if she kept her mouth shut about Connor's whereabouts. I think my tone was most effective.'

Darla remembered the look of fear on Drusilla's face as her hand closed in around her pale neck. True, now she had a soul, but it didn't mean that, as her Grandsire, she still held power over Drusilla. Insane or not, she would not dare to disobey her.

'And the wizard'd better have a chat with his old man 'bout not leavin' a child alone,' Spike hissed. Darla tilted her head to one side, thoughtful.

'I bet he will. Severus looked much madder than us.'

_And with good reason_.

'Shall we call it a day, then? Lindsey must be getting frantic right now.'

'Yeah, and I bet Buffy's sick of being stuck in your place. Let's go.'

They paid for their drinks, which had remained almost untouched, and left the pub. They walked in silence for a while, then Spike, whose gaze was fixed on a point far, far away, whispered:

'Do you think she was right?'

For a moment, Darla had no idea what the hell Spike was talking about. It was lucky they knew each other so well, or she'd never been able to follow his reasoning.

'Dru? About what, we wasting her gift, or...?'

'No, not that. About we abandonin' her.'

Darla turned to look at him, frowning.

'I don't know if you've forgotten that she dumped you in the first place, just as she dumped me at Lindsey's doorstep after Angel had fun with a box of matches.'

'I wasn't talking about that...'

'Then enlighten me, 'cause I don't understand.'

Spike waved a hand, at a momentary loss of words.

'After gettin' our souls, we left her alone. And she's always been a victim...'

'So were we, Spike. The Master didn't give me a chance, just like I didn't give Angel one and the same goes for you, doesn't it?'

'Yeah, but...' Frustrated, Spike but his lower lip. 'She was the weakest of us, with her madness and all... Couldn't we have helped her, somehow, as Buffy helped me and I helped you?'

Darla's frown deepened. 'Getting her a soul, you mean? Don't you think that, given her state of mind, that'd do more harm than good?'

'Well... yeah,' Spike admitted, 'but I still can't help to think that we could have done something for her...'

'Spike, it hurts me to say so, but the most sympathetic thing we could have done to her was thrust a stake through her heart, and you know it. No, Spike. Certain things cannot be fixed, certain wounds won't heal. You know as well as I that Drusilla is beyond salvation.'

Spike fell silent and Darla saw him grit his teeth. She knew, though, that it wasn't out of anger, but impotence. He knew as well as she did that there was no cure for Drusilla, no way ti fix her. That chance had been lost long time ago.

And they both walk all the way to her apartment in silence, both dwelling in past memories. Memories of a young girl cursed with visions of hideous things, a young girl who had the misfortune of crossing paths with two mass murderers. A girl who had been ripped away from the life she knew, and that all her loved ones had been taken away from her. A girl who was deliberatly pushed over the edge of insanity.

The sweet girl was turned into one of the vilest creatures that walked on this land, and at the same time, one of the saddest. Darla remembered the way Drusilla always seeked for someone else to take care of her, to cherish her, and how she'd lost them one by one: Angel, Darla, Spike, until she was left completely alone.

Of all her crimes, Darla reckoned Drusilla was the worst, because she was the one who had been broken the most. She remembered the loneliness and desperation in those mad eyes when, at the Forbidden Forest, Drusilla had said she'd just wanted to see her baby brother...

...but inwardly, Darla admitted to herself that next time Drusilla got anywhere near Connor, she would stake her without a second thought.

'What took you so long? Couldn't you find the book?'

Darla watched Lindsey's and Buffy's anxious faces, then exchanged an eloquent look with Spike.

'Oh, we found the book. And something else. Sit down, I'll explain...'

* * *

For anyone who might be interested, this Episode is a companion piece to _Chapter 17: No Safe Place_, of my other fic, 'Two Single Parents', where Connor's little adventure is detailed.

**Imzadi:** I'm happy you've liked the chapter. It was about time I wrote something more or less nice, considering how creepy Episode 13 was. However, I doubt things will be like that for long, muahahaha...


	16. Episode 16

**Episode 16:**

'_I touch the fire and it freezes me_

_I look into it and it's black_

_Why can't I feel? _

_My skin should crack and peel_

_I want the fire back'_

_**- 'Walk Through The Fire', by Sarah Michelle Gellar -**_

When Spike and Buffy announced they would stay in England for a while, a couple of months after the incident with Drusilla, there was rejoicing in the streets.

Probably that would be a melodramatic way to express it (a very Spike-ish way, certainly). Giles, of course, was happy to have his prodigal daughter back, and Darla knew Connor would be thrilled to have one of his heroes around.

Darla herself felt glad to know that Spike would be living within blocks from her place. It was nice for a change having a friend who wasn't in the opposite end of the globe. Sure, Darla had made some friends at work, with whom she went for a drink occasionally, but the only real friends she had were Spike and Faith – who was now living in Australia. Of course, she had Lindsey – but he wasn't exactly a friend anymore, was he?

The day – or, to be more precise, the night – Spike and Buffy were moving arrived, and both Darla and Giles went over their new place to lend them a hand.

When they arrived, they saw, behind a tower of cardboard boxes, a rather glum-looking Buffy, whereas Spike seemed annoyed over something. In an undertone, Giles commented how stressing moving was. Darla, who'd noted how increasingly strained Spike's voice had sounded on the phone lately, thought there was something more to Spike's and Buffy's bad mood, but said nothing. Instead, she offered herself at once to rip open the boxes, and so they started to work.

Lindey hadn't looked keen on accompanying her, so she had not asked him to. Now she came to think of it, Lindsey didn't look particularly happy with the news of Spike and Buffy moving to London. He hadn't liked Buffy that much, and Darla suspected Spike hadn't made quite an impression on him either. That was hardly surprising: after all, how long had it taken Darla and Spike to get along?

However, it had disappointed her a little. After all, the two of them had a lot in common. Well, that wasn't exactly true... But they did share a love for music and, er... the same hatred towards a certain someone, perhaps?

To Darla's shock, though, when she'd asked Lindsey what he thought about Spike, he'd shifted uncomfortably and said:

'I don't know. He reminds me too much of... well, you know... _him_.'

Just as Buffy couldn't come around to say Connor's name, there was a word that never crossed Lindsey's lips if he could avoid it.

_Angel._

At first, Darla had thought that Lindsey didn't mention his name for the same reason Buffy's friends didn't during those fateful last days at Sunnydale: he thought it might hurt her to talk about it. Which was ridiculous. First of all, she didn't need to be kept in a crystal cage. Secondly, she'd never felt anything real for Angel. When they'd been together, it had all been about lust, both lust for the kill and sexual attraction. Then, she'd obessesed over him. Now she thought about it, though, she hadn't been as obssesed to get Angel back because she missed him as she'd been obssesed to return things to the way they used to be. No, she certainly hadn't loved him.

About his death, she'd naturally felt sad. He'd been the first to show concern for her, and she also felt pity because the world had lost one of its greatest champions. Mostly, though, she'd felt sorry because Connor would never be able to meet his father. But had she felt personally affected by his death? No. So why then Lindsey acted as if she had?

She would have liked to tell him this, but the subject was hard to cover as Lindsey avoided talking about it like the plague. It kind of annoyed her, that Lindsey could believe her to be that fragile and that she'd loved Angel when she'd so clearly hadn't. After certain event, though, Darla began to ponder whether she hadn't misunderstood Lindsey's reasons completely.

It had been during one of Connor's visits, when the boy had casually asked about his father. Before that moment, Connor hadn't showed much curiosity about his past, perhaps because he felt too content with Severus Snape to care much about a man he'd never gotten to know. However, it was possible that meeting Severus' father (during that disastrous visit he'd paid his son, which had culminated with Connor at Drusilla's mercy) had awakened his desire to know more about his own lineage.

Either way, Darla proceeded to satisfy his curiosity... with a great deal of caution. Long time ago, Severus and her had agreed that, in order to give Connor a more or less normal life, they would not tell him the truth until he were older. Therefore, the boy believed Darla to have a disease that prevented her from stepping into the sunshine, and the version she gave him about Angel's story wasn't very accurate.

She told him that his father had run an investigations agency, and that he'd worked side by side with Slayers. She told him about the music his father liked, about his skills at drawing, his love for ice hockey, and several other harmful details. Connor had drunk in each one of her words, absorbing it all.

Somewhere halfway her explanation, she'd looked away from Connor's fascinated face, and had seen Lindsey's reclining against a wall, watching them. When she saw his face, though, Darla's voice faltered a moment.

The expression on his face... the expression on his face was terrible. Darla wasn't an easy one to startle, but the look in his eyes sent icy shivers all the way down her spine. His face was contorted in a way that didn't make him look like the Lindsey she knew at all. On it, there was a terrifying mixture of

_blazing fury _

_utter revulsion _

_pure hatred_

emotions she did not associate with Lindsey at all. She remembered the night Lindsey had found out she'd slept with Angel... his face had looked just like now, right before he ran over Angel with a truck.

Lindsey's gaze met hers and he started. Darla wasn't sure how it happened, but in a mere second that awful expression had faded away from his face, to be replaced by a warm smile. He walked towards them, stroked Connor's hair playfully, and with all the naturality of the world, he suggested going to the cinema that evening, there was a new Disney movie Connor was going to adore...

He sounded so casual, so perfectly natural, all his characteristic kindness back, that Darla almost thought she'd imagined the whole episode. Almost.

From that moment on, Darla kept her eyes open. In short time, she realised that Lindsey's eyes blazed every time Angel was mentioned, as a shadow crossed his features and his knuckles would turn white. These signs, though, disappeared as quickly as they came, and in no time Lindsey returned to his usual self... perhaps a little nicer, a little more cheerful, a little too casual.

Darla knew Lindsey had hated Angel with a passion, but she was surprised to see it lasted till present time, as Angel had already been dead for four years. Didn't death pay all debts?

She was also astounded as Spike's reaction was always so different from Lindsey's. Spike had no trouble to talk about Angel – in occassion, Darla had to tell him to shut up about certain things in front of Connor – on the contrary, he loved to either rant about what a poofter his old nemesis used to be and to reminiscence of all they'd gone through together. Sometimes, Darla even thought that Spike missed Angel a little, if only it was because he had no one left to bicker with.

And much more terrible stuff had happened between Spike and Angel than between Angel and Lindsey. However, Spike seemed to have gotten over it all: why Lindsey hadn't?

It was true that Angel had hurt Lindsey deeply. However, Lindsey himself had been no saint. In fact, if she was one hundred percent honest with herself, she would have had to admit that Lindsey's had done to Angel much worse things than the other way around.

Darla was pulled out of her reverie by a cry of pain. She turned around, alarmed, but it was just Buffy, who'd hit her foot against a wooden box.

Giles and Spike headed towards her.

'You alright, pet?'

For some reason, Buffy looked annoyed.

'Yeah, I'm fine.' With no further explanation, she spun round and strode to the bathroom. Spike shrugged.

'Suit yourself.'

Giles glanced at Darla, a confused expression on his face. Darla irked an eyebrow as she watched Spike ripping open a box, his face unreadable. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark...

Later on, when Giles was out of earshot, Darla approached Spike.

'What's going on between you and Buffy,' she inquired in an undertone. He did not turn to look at her.

'Nutting. Everything's bloody perfect.'

Darla snorted.

'Sure. Be like that.'

She kept pulling stuff out of cardboard boxes, and ignored Spike completely for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Darla was sitting at the kitchen table, reading an art magazine – she adored the Botticellis – and sipping from a mug of black coffee. The clock's hands were slowly approaching three o'clock, and all was quiet. It could have felt eerie, sitting alone in such silence, hadn't it been she was used to it. Besides, she liked such little moments of peace. She had so few of them in her life...

So she wasn't exactly thrilled when she heard a faint knock at her apartment's door. She started, nearly dropping her mug, although the knock was so soft that no human would've been able to hear it.

At once, her mind began racing. Who would knock at her door so late at night? It couldn't be one of the neighbours; Darla barely knew them and the faint knocking didn't indicate it was an emergency.

If something had happened at the Slayer's School, they would have phoned first. The same if it was something to do with work. Hell, everyone she knew would have phoned first.

Except for Severus Snape. As far as she was concerned, wizards did not use the telephone, neither did they know how to use it. If something – God, The Powers That Be, or whoever that was listening, forbid it – had happened to Connor, Snape wouldn't call first.

She jumped from the stool and rushed to the door, her feet barely touching the floor. She swung the door open, opened her mouth... and shut it close. To her utter amazement, it was neither Snape nor Connor the person standing in her doorstep, but Spike. She blinked, shocked.

Spike, misunderstanding the look on her face, hastened to say:

'Sorry, pet, didn't mean to disturb you. If you're busy, I'll get outta here...'

'No, no, you aren't interrupting anything,' she corrected him at once, 'I was bored to death. It's just that I wasn't expecting you, that's all.'

Spike shifted uncomfortably. Darla noted his hair looked quite dishevelled.

'Well, I wasn't expectin' me to come here either. I just... I just went out for a walk, see, and saw the light was on...'

Darla waved a dismissive hand. 'It's OK. C'mon, get in. You wanna a cup of coffee?'

Darla realised that Spike did not want to talk about the reason he'd chosen that unlikely time of the night for a social visit, so instead she led the conversation to less tricky matters.

At a comment of Spike after seeing the magazine she'd been reading ('always been infatuated with Botticelli, haven't you?'), they began to recall their days in Rome and some other places of the world they'd seen together, and how different, according to Spike, they looked nowadays.

Still trying to keep the conversation as light as possible, Darla inquired about Spike's new job as an announcer at a small radio. Spike looked at ease as he told her about it, and she learnt more about the inner functioning of a radio than she would have thought possible. She was relieved to see he'd gotten a job that suited him so well, God knew that just working at the Slayer's School wasn't enough to make ends meet.

'Red's called the other day. She's also gotten a new job.'

Darla's curiosity was piqued. 'Really? What is it?'

'It's a teacher job... but in a witchcraft school, called Salem or something. Sounds like a secondary school, but for warlocks... familiar much?'

She was surprised. 'Must be like Connor's future school, Hogwarts, but in the States... Well, that's great for her.' She smiled. She'd always esteemed Willow. 'Is she still dating that guy... Stuart? Stefan? What was his name again?'

'Stewart, I think. And yeah, she is. Who would've guessed it? Thought she'd sworn off blokes for good...'

Darla shook her head. 'Nah, I don't think that a het person can turn absolutely gay, y'know. I always suspected she was just bi.'

She took a sip from her steaming coffee mug. 'I'm glad she's doing alright. Oh, that reminds me, Faith called.' Spike's eyes were alight with interest.

'How's Wild One doin' in sunny Australia?'

Darla smiled. 'Very well, actually. She's doing a great job at training those three Slayers... She reckons she might stay there permanently, although she might come in a few months to pay us a visit...'

Suddenly, Spike's head jerked up, his eyes widening.

'Can't believe I forgot to tell you. Gotta a hell of a piece of news for you.'

She moved forward over the breakfast table. 'What is it? C'mon, Spike, don't play mysterious. I'm all ears.'

Spike grinned, and Darla was surprised to see this. In the few months he and Buffy had been living in England, she'd barely seen Spike grin anymore.

'Niblet's finished college, and she's decided that she wants to be a Watcher...'

'...which musn't have made Buffy happy,' Darla cut in, knowing all too well the Golden Slayer's protectiveness of her younger sister.

'Well... no. But there's a silver lining: she'll come to train here.'

Darla patted his arm. 'That's fantastic, Spike. I'm sure Buffy will be thrilled to have her sister around.'

Was it her imagination, or hand't Spike's grin faded a little?

'Yeah, I guess so.'

Darla decided that enough was enough. Since the day they had arrived to London, Darla had sensed there was something wrong with Buffy and Spike. It wasn't like they bickered all the time or they had constant quarrels, but she'd noticed they didn't spend much time together these days. And when they did, there was a tension in the air, a stiffness in the way they treated each other that told Darla something was not right.

She had refrained from asking, as Spike never looked keen on discussing the subject, but she was fed up. She was going to get to the end of it. She just had to decide whether she should use diplomacy or bluntness.

'What's wrong with you and Buffy?'

Tact was _so_ overrated.

Spike winced. 'Nutting. We're peachy.'

She glared at him. 'Don't take me for a fool, Spike.'

He averted her eyes. Instead, his gaze fixed upon some distant point in midair, and looked as if he were seeing things Darla could not. Finally, he let out an uncharacteristic sigh and turned to face her.

'I don't know. I've tried, y'know, to figure it out... but I don't get it.'

He sounded so sad, so helpeless, that Darla's anger vanished.

'Maybe, if you tell me, I'd be able to help you,' she softly said, placing a hand on his arm. 'Or at least you'll get it out of your system.'

His lips quirked, but it didn't look like a smile at all.

'It's just... We've always had our ups and downs, Buffy and I. Got too much temper for our own good.'

Darla refrained the impulse to say '_Really?_' and let him go on.

'There was that time we didn't speak for each other for some months, remember?' Darla nodded darkly. She remembered it all too well, as Spike had been absolutely unbearable. 'But we always made up, and our reconciliations were... well, guess you don't need to hear the details but you can quite picture it, can't you?' She could, and it was one of those times she cursed her imagination.

'We fought, we couldn't stand each other one moment, and the next we couldn't be apart. It was glory and hell, bliss and mayhem, sometimes we despised each other and other times we loved each other madly. And we wouldn't have had it any other way. Or at least, I wouldn't have.' Spike shrugged. 'Either way, that just... changed.'

'How come?'

He shook his head. 'Dunno. It wasn't abrupt, it didn't start with a bang. Perhaps it began one night, when I got home and she was already sleeping. Perhaps it was the day I wasn't in the mood to accompany her during a shopping spree and preferred to watch a football match on TV. Perhaps it began when I realised that I no longer thought about her all the time, or perhaps when I realised that I breathed – figuratively speaking – more freely when she wasn't around. I don't know.'

Darla reflected for a moment. She had lived many years and seen many things, but when it came to human – well, sort of – relationships she was still quite clueless.

'Perhaps... perhaps the routine has worn you two out. Perhaps, a change...'

Spike snorted. 'Pet, why d'you think we came here in the first place? No, that hasn't changed anything. And it's not like we haven't tried to make things better. All the time I feel like I'm tryin', like all the time I'm with her I'm makin' an effort... And I can see in her eyes that she feels the same way. We seem to be putting up with some burden instead of being in love. All the time, trying so hard... and sometimes, sometines I can't help to wonder whether it's worthy at all...'

He fell silent, his gaze getting lost again. Darla looked at him, not knowing what to say. She wished to say words of comfort, to come up with a miraculous plan to save their relationship... but nothing came to her mind. Instead, she merely squeezed his arm gently.

He smiled wearily and look at her. 'Thank you. For the excellent coffee and, well, everything else.'

Darla was touched at the sentiment poorly hidden in his voice.

'You can come whenever you want, Spike. It's not like I sleep at night, is it?'

Spike smirked. 'I will return... for the 3 AM coffee, of course.'

* * *

During the following weeks, Spike kept visiting her more or less regularly, to share a cup of coffee and have a quiet chat. Darla was glad of having a chance of cheering up the unnaturally withdrawn Spike. Lindsey, though, didn't seem that thrilled.

'Why does he always have to come so late at night?' he'd complained once. Darla had stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

'For us it's not that late. We're nocturnal, remember? Besides,' she added, 'what's the matter? The times you spend here the night, you're already sound asleep when he arrives and we don't disturb you, do we?'

Lindsey hadn't replied, but made a sound like '_hmph_' and returned his attention to the magazine he'd been reading. They no longer talked about it, and Spike kept coming over her place.

One night, the inevitable subject of Angel was brought up.

'She still avoids to mention him if she can,' Spike commented, almost nonchalantly but not quite, 'and she never wants to hear anything about Connor.'

'Figures,' Darla snorted. She tried her best not to show it, but it infuriated her the way Buffy acted regarding Connor, as if he were some kind of monster and not the most delightful nine-year-old child on Earth. Spike, though, must have seen through her facade, judging by the ironic look on his face.

'Guess she can't help it. The thing is, Darla, that I'm startin' to doubt she's gotten over him at all. Peaches's become a taboo subject. It's a wall, his ghost is, a wall between us. I can't walk through it, Darla, and I've tried. But every time I try to talk about it, she shuts me out completely. The look in her eyes, Darla... The look in her eyes clearly tells me that, every time I mention Angel, she wonders how her life would be if he were still in her life... And I see the longing, I see she wants him back...'

Darla decided that she had to be the voice of reason in the conversation.

'Spike, it's not that uncommon to wonder what could have been. And she's not the only one who would have liked Angel to be still here. Even I do, if only for Connor's sake –'

Spike chuckled bitterly. 'I didn't mean it like that, and you know it.' Spike closed his eyes, when he opened them again, there was a somewhat resigned look in them. 'Sometimes... sometimes I can't help thinking she would replace me with him, were she given the chance, without a doubt.'

'Well, I think that you're being a little harsh on her, jumping on conclusions like that!'

Spike winced at her snappish tone, but Darla was too incensed to notice.

'Just because she might miss him and it's hard for her talking about him doesn't mean that she would like to be with him now. Yeah, no doubt he's been very important in her life and all, but it's all in the past now. People _do_ move on, you know.' Darla put down her coffee mug with much more force than necessary, making all the other stuff on the table to clatter. Spike winced, but she fully ignored him. 'You should give her more credit. And I think it's apalling the way you're dooming your relationship because of your delusions. Perhaps she just doesn't know how to bring up the subject of Angel, perhaps she's just afraid of your reaction, and this whole thing of "oh, she's not gotten over him yet" it's just the projection of your jealously and your insecurity, and your own unfinished business with Angel, and it's silly, because it's not like he was really sooo great and sooo hard to forget, not to say blaming a dead guy is downright stupid...'

Spike, she noted, looked nothing short of bewildered.

'You're still talking about Buffy, aren't you?'

'Er...

...yeah,' Darla mumbled, suddenly feeling flustered and rather embarassed at her outburst. Spike just stared at her, as if she were some kind of puzzle he was trying to decipher.

'Anyway, I don't think your problem is Angel,' she hastened to add, in a vain attempt to regain her composure. He stared at her a little more, a somewhat shocked look still plastered on his face, until he seemed to remember what they'd been talking about.

'Dunno. Possibly you're right. I mean... If she'd wanted to be with Peaches, she could have, the curse be damned. After all, that didn't stop him for attempting something with the Cheerleader, innit?'

Darla reflected upon this. It was true that Angel seemed to have moved on. She remembered all too well the looks he kept throwing at Cordelia... he was clearly bessotted with the brunette. And, honestly, Buffy hadn't been quite the nun either.

'I think... I think that she did not want so much being with him as she wanted to turn things back the way they used to be.'

Now Spike looked positively puzzled.

'Isn't it the same?'

Darla ran a hand through her hair, trying to rephrase it so her idea became clearer.

'I mean, I don't reckon Buffy and Angel would have gotten back together. Too many things had happened, they had undergone too many changes. They no longer were the same people who'd fallen in love with. The new versions of themselves just didn't match. But...' She bit her lower lip. 'I think she might miss the way she was when she was with Angel.'

Spike raised an eyebrow, the scarred one. There was a pensive look in his eyes as he pondered what she'd just said.

'You mean, young, carefree... and whole?'

She shifted in her seat, avoiding his stare.

'Well... yeah, I guess so. When we met during the whole First debacle, she certainly looked very different from the girl I'd known.'

He grimly nodded. 'She'd changed much, that's right. Too much stuff had happened to her, I guess. But then,' Spike hesitated a moment and ran a hand through his spiky hair, 'then, when the burden of being the Chosen One was lifted from her shoulders, when the bloody Hellmouth was destroyed, and she came lookin' for me...' His voice trailed off a moment, apparently lost in the memory. 'She seemed to have gotten back a bit of her old personality, a bit of her fiery temper. For the first time in a long time, I thought she,' Spike paused, apparently struggling to find the right word, 'she seemed willing to live. Really live, not the surviving thing she'd done during that last time in Sunnydale, right after Peaches' death. And for some reason,' and reaching this point in his tale, he looked bewildered, 'she wanted to share that life with me. She said... she said she didn't want a common life. That she'd tried it, and it wasn't really her thing. That she _wanted_ to spend her days and nights with me, and she didn't mind giving up normalcy.'

Spike's lips curved into a sneer as he shook slightly his head.

'And I was foolish enough to believe her.'

Her head, which had been resting on her hands, jerked up at his cynnical tone. 'Spike, I daresay she did want it. After all, you two were together for more or less three years.'

_Which was much longer than I would have expected_, she thought but refrained from saying outloud. Her friend, though, must have read something on her face, as the sneer became even more sarcastic.

'You put it right, Darla: that's what she _did_ want. Past tense.'

Darla tilted her head to one side and wondered why he spoke with such certainty. Suddenly, she got the suspicion there was something Spike hadn't been telling her.

'When did you realise she didn't want it anymore, Spike?'

He did not reply at once. Instead, he stared at his empty mug. Shadows, she noticed, were starting to turn translucent and faint as dawn was winning the battle to the darkness of night. Soon she would have to close the curtains – had they been talking for so long?

When Spike looked up, the sneer had vanished , whereas the sarcastic look in his eyes had been replaced with one of infinite sadness and pain.

'The Whelp's wedding, a few months back. The look in her eyes, Darla... There was longing there, I saw it.' Spike's shoulders sunk down. 'I was foolish enough to believe a woman so full of life like Buffy would be willing to give up the sort of life that was rightfully hers. But that night, Darla, that night I opened my eyes.' The sadness in his eyes became more heart-breaking as he added, 'I realised she wanted the white dress, the bridesmaids, the chubby children and the white fence. But above everything else, I think she wanted the sunlight... and all what I could never give her.'

Spike fell silent. He closed his eyes and seemed to shrink in his seat, as if that confession had drained the last bit of energy of his body. Darla's heart contracted with pity at her friend's evident pain. She wished she could spew words that would heal his soul, she wished she could do something to ease his pain... but nothing came to her mind. She didn't know what she could say or do that could help Spike. She suspected that his relationship with Buffy was beyond fixing. And then, she realised there was only one thing she could do.

She slowly rose from her stool and silently circled the breakfast table. Spike, whose face was hidden in his hands, did not show any signs of noticing this. Darla came to a halt when she was right behind him, and then, she just bent and uncertainly wrapped his arms around him.

He flinched a little, obviously surprised, but she didn't let him go and, after a moment, he eased and placed his head on her shoulder.

Then, in a faint, desperate whisper, she heard him say:

'I don't understand it. Thought love was something that lasted forever, that it was either scorching with passion or freezing with unrequited love, either glory or hell... and instead I'm stuck with this numbness, this greyness that doesn't wears off.' He swallowed. 'Thought the fire never died, but I was wrong. What does it take to strike a spark, Darla? What does it take, when all you feel in your mouth are cold, tasteless ashes?'

Darla wished she knew the answers to his questions. Darla wished she could say something enlightening, something that would make the shadows, the doubts lingering in her mind, to vanish.

But she did not know and all she could do was to keep holding her pained friend, as the sun bathed London's streets, chasing away the darkness outside... but leaving the darkness inside their souls untouched.

* * *

**Imzadi:** I'm afraid that Dru's beyond Dumbledore's help, although I always thought that she wasn't as mad as she tried to make everybody believe. In 'Crush' she seemed quite rational... if only because everyone else was acting crazy. As for Snape's father, you can bet that his visit wasn't a walk in the park for both his son and Connor. I think that, of all the characters I've created, he's the one I hated the most.

**Sparky: **Well, certainly this fic's style is very different from '2 single parents', so I'm not surprised if you didn't like both the same way. About all your questions... well, don't you think that if I answered them I would give away the whole plot? If you want to know, keep reading! Anyway, 'Two Single Parents' end when Harry's first year starts... but that's not the end of the tale. I'm planning to write a new installment of the series per each year Harry spends at Hogwarts, told by Connor's, Snape's, Sirius', Spike's and Darla's POV, and with some things changed, naturally.

**Lucrecia Almasy**: It's really thrilling to me knowing that last chapter touched you, and that you think mydescription of Drusilla was perfect... thank you so much!

**SunflowerLynx**: Thanks for your comments! I'm glad you like my little universe, as I've become very fond of it, and that you found my writing amusing. Thanks!


	17. Episode 17

**Episode 17:**

'_I put my trust in you_

_Pushed as far as I can go_

_And for all this_

_There's only one thing you should know_

_I tried so hard_

_And got so far_

_But in the end_

_It doesn't even matter_

_I had to fall_

_To lose it all_

_But in the end_

_It doesn't even matter'_

_**- 'In The End', by Linkin Park -**_

Hot water poured over her hands, which were rubbing the glasses and dishes with a yellow sponge, producing iridicent bubbles everywhere. Lindsey, who was sitting on one of the kitchen's stools, right behind her, had offered to lend her a hand, but doing the washing up was one of the few chores Darla didn't mind doing on her own. Not like cooking, at which she was a complete disaster, possibly because it was a skill she'd never needed. That was something, though, Lindsey couldn't help her with, so when he or Connor stayed for dinner they survived thanks to takeaways.

'...so I talked to Severus about taking Connor to Oxford next Saturday, and he was okay with it, so we can make all the necessary arrangements already – what do you think?'

Darla pursed her nose as she struggled with a particularly stubborn greasy stain.

'I think the idea of the trip is great, I bet Connor's gonna love it,' he said slowly. Something in his tone made Darla feel there was a "but" coming, and she wasn't mistaken. 'I just wonder,' Lindsey made a pause, and even though she could not see him, she was certain he was licking his lips. 'Do you need to ask for Snape's permission for anything you want to do with Connor? Aren't you supposed to be his mother?'

Darla frowned, taken by surprise, as she made the water to stop running and grabbed a cloth to dry her hands.

'Well... yeah. It's not like I have to ask his permission for everything – I just thought it was polite from me to tell him where his foster child was going to be next Saturday, in case there was an emergency and he needed to contact us. And, let's face it,' Darla added, as she scrubbed her hands with more energy than was strictly necessary, 'I'm lucky that Severus lets me share Connor's custody. God knows there aren't many out there who would let me get anywhere near a child.'

'Hmm,' was all she got as a response from Lindsey, and therefore she concluded the discussion was over. She should have known better.

Later that night, they were both sprawled on her couch, watching a movie that had lost its appeal about half an hour ago. Just when Darla had made up her mind to ask Lindsey to turn off the TV – there had to be something more interesting they could do on a Tuesday night – she caught by the corner of her eye a movement. Lindsey had straightened up on the couch, and instinctively, Darla knew he was about to start a conversation that had little to do with the cheesy comedy they were suffering – er, watching.

And, once again, she was right.

'How much do you trust this Snape guy?'

Darla's head jerked up. She hadn't been expecting something like this.

'Well, I trust him with my only child's life. What does _that_ tell you?'

'Yeah, I know, but after that episode Connor was left alone in a haunted forest and he was nearly killed by Drusilla and a bunch of vampires...'

Darla shook her head. 'That wasn't Severus' fault, but the idiot of his father, and he didn't exactly left Connor in the forest. Besides, Lindsey, everyone makes mistakes. You remember the time I lost Connor in that not-so-nice hood of London that shall remain unnamed – between you and me, that was nearly as bad as the Forbidden Forest.'

Lindsey remained silent for a moment but, as the good lawyer he was, he rallied almost at once. 'But what do you _know_ about this guy?'

'Plenty of stuff.' And she did. Over the years, she'd gotten to know Severus Snape rather well... although she doubted Lindsey would be impressed if she told him what she knew about Severus' past. But, honestly, it wasn't like either of them had a clean record. 'Look, Lindsey: Giles trusts Professor Dumbledore's judgement, and Dumbledore trusts Severus. Therefore, I trust Severus as well. Besides,' she added, placing a hand on Lindsey's arm, 'if you'd met Professor Dumbledore, you would trust him as well. He's one of those people you trust instinctively.'

Lindsey raised his eyebrows, looking rather skeptical, but said nothing. Darla thought it was funny how, sometimes, he acted as though he had reasons to be more cynical than her.

'On the other hand, Connor's been nothing but happy with him, and Severus' never given me any reason to distrust him.'

'Hmm,' was Lindsey's laconic answer and silence fell upon them. Darla, though, knew the discussion was far from over.

'I still don't see why he has Connor's legal custody, when you're the boy's mother.'

The same way Darla was sometimes susprised by Lindsey's cynicality, sometimes she was equally surprised at his naïvety.

'Because no one who knows what I am would give me his legal custody. And you can bet that the Ministry of Magic won't be fooled into believing I have XP: they'll know right away that I'm a vampire, and then I won't see my child ever again.'

'But I've been doing some research about Wizarding Law, and there might be a way for you to reclaim your son's custody. There have been other cases in which a woman with children was turned into a vampire and managed to retain the custody...'

Darla frowned, and refrained herself from asking how on earth Lindsey had managed to find out how Wizarding Law worked and, most importantly, who on earth had asked him to embark on such research.

'You're forgetting one little detail, Lindsey,' she pointed out, instead. 'I wasn't turned into a vampire after Connor's birth, but four hundred years before. Don't you think that might draw the Ministry's attention, not to say the rest of the Wizarding community's, to Connor? Don't you think they might not be too understanding towards something they cannot understand or comprehend? No, Lindsey. I know the way the human mind works. I won't do anything that'll make Connor to be in the spotlight, I know what happens in those cases. I saw witches being burned, I saw Jewish being slaughtered. What do you think people will say if they find out Connor's not entirely human? That there hasn't been anyone like him in the entire human history?'

Lindsey obviously had nothing to say to that. Even though he liked Connor, he wasn't foolish enough to think other people would share his point of view.

'Besides, the reason I did not pursue obtaining Connor's full custody didn't change,' Darla added. 'After all, what kind of life could I give him? I could never take him to school, to the park... And what if there's an emergency in the middle of the day? What would I do then?' She shook her head grimly. 'He's better where he is now, among those that are like him, with someone that can take proper care of him.'

Lindsey bit his lower lip and fixed his eyes on the blueish screen, although she doubted he was paying much attention to the film. Darla waited, until he took his eyes off the TV and fixed them on hers instead with an intensity that hadn't been there before.

'There's a difference, Darla. When you came to England for the first time, you were on your own. That's not true anymore, is it?'

Darla was a little taken aback, especially when the full meaning of his words sunk in. She realised that she would have to be extra cautious with what she said next or there would be hell to pay.

'I know that, Lindsey,' she said, smiling warmly at him. 'But, with the lifestyle we both lead – you know, fighting vampires, demons and whatever comes our way – how are we supposed to take proper care of him? How are we going to keep him safe? Lindsey, I really appreciate your help, but I still think that the best place for Connor is where he lives right now. On the other hand,' she added, 'don't you think it would be somewhat unfair to Severus? After all, he took care of Connor when he wasn't compelled to do so. And he might come across as a cold type of person, but I assure you that he adores Connor. And it would be unfair to Connor as well. He sees Severus as the father he'd never had.'

At her last words, Lindsey twitched. Darla narrowed her eyes. Okay, one thing was for Lindsey to be jealous of Angel, but now he was jealous of the role Severus played on Connor's life as well?

_Geez, I feel like I'm dating a fifteen-year-old._

However, Lindsey soon regained his composure and gave her an uncertain smile.

'I guess you're right, then. Have I already told you how much the tickets to Oxford cost...?'

For what was left of the night, though, Darla felt a distinct coldness emanating from Lindsey, as though she'd offended him somehow.

_In Spike inmortal words,_ she thought idly, _this is bloody marvellous.

* * *

_

'It's over, pet.'

Spike and Darla were sitting on a bench in a park faintly illuminated by streetlamps and in which the sound of children laughter hadn't yet faded away although the rays of sunlight already had.

'You mean over, _over_, as in "hell will freeze before a reconciliation takes place" or...'

Spike smiled wearily. 'Absolutely over. Y'know, we could have talked it over like two civilized people, but well... Buffy and I aren't like that, so instead there was a screaming match, we both ended up rather pissed off, and the bloody bint had to have her dramatic exit and nearly slammed the door on my nose.' Spike took a sip of his Starbuck's coffee (at this point of their relationship, Darla could no longer imagine the two of them having a talk without a mug of coffee in their hands) and his gaze fixed on a bunch of children a few meters away. They were barely a couple of years older than Connor and they were all clutching bright-coloured skates. Although, judging by the scratches on their knees, they still need a lot of practice with them.

'It was me who put an end to the whole thing,' Spike said quietly. 'For once in my damned unlife, I was smart enough to realise there was no way to make it last... and for once, I was strong and brave enough to get through with it.'

Darla put a hand on his arm. 'Spike, you're strong and brave.'

He sniggered. 'There was a time, luv, when you didn't think so well of me.'

Darla shrugged. 'I had good reason not to. But things are different now, aren't they?'

Spike nodded, his eyes now fixed on a scrawny child that was trying his best to mantain his balance on the treacherous skate. 'Yeah, they're. I'm not whinning, for one thing. In fact,' he said, and he sounded somewhat perplexed, 'I'm not feelin' heart-broken at all. It's not like when Dru dumped me, that I cried all over the place like a poofter, blaming everyone else and feelin' like I would die if she didn't return to me.'

Darla pondered about it, as the scrawny boy fell once again from the skate.

'You were different, back then. And the situation wasn't the same, either. You said it yourself: Drusilla dumped you, but now it was you who broke up with Buffy. Things have certainly changed.'

Spike tilted his head to one side, pensive.

'Guess you're right 'bout that. When Dru left, I felt like it was the end of the damned world – now, though, I feel... relieved.' He looked surprised at his own choice of words. 'It sounds weird, but that's the way it is. The last months we were together... they were so bloody tiring, Darla. I felt like all the time I was trying to stop somethin' from shattering, and it turned out there was nutting to keep safe in the first place. I pushed so far to make it work, I tried so hard to make it last. And all the time I felt like I was doin' somethin' wrong, that it was all my fault. Now, though... Guess it just wasn't meant to be.'

They sat in silence for a while, during which they both sipped their respective coffees and watched the scrawny boy making yet another attempt to tame the skate, all his friends encouraging him.

'So, what are you going to do now?'

Spike shrugged. 'Dunno. It's odd, being free to go wherever I want, to do whatever I please, without having to give explanations to anyone...' He turned to look at her. 'I don't think I'm gonna stay here, luv.'

Darla tried her best to hide her disappointment. 'And where are you going?'

'I'm not sure. But there are always new places to see, new people to meet... Guess I'll pay old Clem a visit, see how he's doin' in Detroit, perhaps see Niblet again too... Then, I don't now. And you know what? I think I enjoy the uncertainty.'

She smiled sadly, as she watched the group of children grabbing their skates and finally abandoning the park. 'I'm glad for you but... I guess I'll miss having you around.'

Spike put an arm around her shoulders. 'Me too, pet. Me too.'

Spike, always the old-fashioned gentleman, insisted on escorting her home. Amused, Darla had let him do so. After all, they didn't have much time together left.

'You know, Darla, I think I always gave too much importance to the word "forever"', he said unexpectedly. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

'What do you mean?'

'Well,' he said, shrugging, 'I thought it was goin' to last forever, Dru and me, so when it was over... when it was over, I was rather lost 'bout what I was supposed to do next. Then Buffy came along, and I dreamed of forever again. Should've known it was an impossible thing to wish for.'

Darla frowned. 'Why is it so?'

'Because, pet, human beings' forever it's not out forever. Because, no matter our souls, we'll never get certain things about 'em. They crave for different things. They might say otherwise, but they all need the sunlight, the air, to perpetuate their species, to settle down and have safety. They have it in their blood. We don't and, therefore, we can't understand it.'

Spike looked at the star-strewn sky, then he looked back at her eyes.

'Wanna a piece of advice, pet? You're free to refuse – it's not like I'm the sharpest tool in the box...'

'I want it.'

He smiled tiredly at her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

'Screw "forever", luv. You feel you have something with Cowboy? Seize it. Seize it hard until it hurts, and don't let anybody take it away from you. Don't think in "forever", pet. "Now" is more n'enough.'

Later that night, Darla found herself in front of Lindsey's door. Without so much as a preliminary "hello", she kissed him full on the lips, forgetting all about their previous discussion.

_Carpe Noctem, Darla. Carpe Noctem._

_

* * *

_XP: Also known as xeroderma pigmentosum,is arare genetic defect in ultraviolet radiation induced DNA repair mechanisms; characterized by severe sensitivity to all sources of UV radiation (especially sunlight). In Chapter 16 of 'Two Single Parents' is mentioned that Darla and Snape told Connor she had this disease in order to explain why she couldn't go out in the sun.

**Imzadi:** Your comment about the Darla/Spike chat really cheered me up, as it was very hard for me to write, I was afraid that Spike sounded a little OOC. ABout Buffy and Spike, I think this chapter has made fully clear that they don't stand a chance anymore. About Lindsey... Well, you will see that soon...

To everybody else who read last chapter, I'd really like to know what you thought about it or about the new chapter as well (c'mon, don't be lazy, pressing the purple button won't take you more than a couple of minutes). And I have an announcement: there are only two more episodes of 'Ain't so far down' to go, so enjoy it while it lasts...


	18. Episode 18

**Only one episode to go!

* * *

**

**Episode 18:**

'_I don't wanna be like Cinderella  
Sitting in a dark old dusty cellar  
Waiting for somebody, to come and set me free  
I don't wanna be like Snow White waiting  
For a handsome prince to come and save me  
On a horse of white, unless we're riding side by side  
Don't want to depend on no one else  
I'd rather rescue myself_

_Someday I'm gonna find someone, __who wants my soul, heart, and mind  
Who's not afraid to show that he loves me  
Somebody who will understand I'm happy just the way I am  
Don't need nobody taking care of me'_

_**- 'Cinderella', by Play -**_

_Sunday, 5 AM_

At first, Spike didn't know what had woken him up. He'd been sprawled on the messy sheets, sleeping peacefully... or enjoying a semicomatose state after a massive hangover. Which was saying something, because vampires got those very rarely given their complexion.

Soon, though, Spike was painfully brought back to reality and it didn't take him long to realise what had done so: the damned phone was ringing like a fire alarm. He cursed under his breath and rolled over, nearly falling from bed as he did so.

'Bollocks.'

His attempts to grab the phone had only resulted on the damn device crashing against the floor. At least, he tought idly, it had stopped the hellish ringing that seemed to pierce his eardrums and smash the only couple of braincells he still had more or less awake. For a moment, he was tempted to leave the phone on the floor and go back to sleep, but then a very familiar voice came from the phone, oddly distorted:

'Spike? Are you there?'

He frowned, his head still throbbing, and stretched out an arm to get the bloody phone. He had no idea why Darla would call him at daybreak, but whatever the reason was, it was bound to be important.

''Lo, pet. Wuzzgoinon?'

There was a small pause at the other end of the line.

'Bad time for a call?'

_Nah, if it's just bloody perfect_, Spike thought. However, there was something in Darla's voice, a slight tremble that told him there was something wrong, so instead of telling her off for calling at such unholy hour, he tried to clear his head.

'Not at all, pet.' So far, so good. His voice didn't sound so slurred anymore. Perhaps he could even try sitting on the bed... 'What's the matter? Is there somethin' wrong with Pigeon?'

All right, perhaps trying to sit wasn't such a good idea: everything started to revolve around him. He sank back on the bed, his head still a little dizzy as he waited Darla to reply.

'No, that's not it at all, Connor's just fine. I just... I just needed to talk to somebody.'

There was a definite tremble in her voice now, as though she were barely repressing a sob. Spike's mind was much more clear in a sudden.

'Luv, that's what I'm here for. What happened?'

When she spoke again, Darla's voice was colourless:

'It's nothing that serious, don't worry... It's Lindsey. We've just... Well, we've just broken up.'

* * *

_Five months earlier_

The last rays of sunlight had already gotten lost in the horizon, and Lindsey and Darla were walking through a park near the Slayer's School. In spite of the lateness of the hour, Darla was surprised to see there still were some women with their children at the swings. Perhaps because she knew all too well how unsuitable for children things could get at nightfall – after all, she'd been one of those things that lurked in the shadows ready to attack the innocent and clueless – but she didn't think she would have let her own child to stay outdoors after dark if she wasn't there to protect him. True, the children weren't alone, but she doubted _their_ mothers would be of much help if something truly nasty came out of the dark and...

_OK, Darla. Let's revise the list that says: "You realise when your job's getting at you when..."_

She turned to Lindsey to comment him this, but she was surprised to see him watching the children with a warm smile on his lips. She followed his gaze and saw a small blonde boy, not older than four, clumsily trotting after a football ball that seemed to be far too big for his tiny feet. He was running towards them, his eyes fixed on the ball as this one got further and further from him. He was so focused on it that he did not see the stone in front of him, hit it with his right foot and tripped. Lindsey launched himself forward, but wasn't quick enough to catch him in time and the small boy fell with his face on the ground as the ball rolled away and got stopped by an old oak tree. Lindsey kneeled next to the now sobbing boy and helped him to get on his feet.

'Shh, shhh, it's okey. It was just a fall,' Lindsey told the boy in a soothing voice Darla'd never heard him use before, as he wiped with a tissue the tears and the dirt that stained the boy's face.

'My knee... it hurts...'

Lindsey bent his head and examined the knobbly knee carefully. 'It's only a scratch... it won't hurt for long...'

He put a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, whose sobs started to fade, and both of them winced when a shrieking voice was heard:

'WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH MY SON!'

Even Darla jumped, for once cursing her heightened hearing. She was certain her eardrums had just been turned into a pulp by the shriek of who was unmistakably the child's mother: she looked right like him. Except, of course, for the poisonous look on her face. Lindsey looked up, with the most innocent and apologetic look possible on his face. 'I'm sorry, madam. I just wanted to check he was alright...'

The woman seemed to calm down almost at once at Lindsey's tone. He used to have that effect on people, who trusted him almost immediately. That was probably one of the reasons he'd been so good at deceiving people when he'd worked for Wolfram and Hart.

'It's OK, I just don't want him to talk to strangers... might be dangerous... thanks for your concern...'

Without one last glance at them, the woman hurried to grab his son's hand and drag him away. The boy looked over his shoulder and gave Lindsey a fleeting smile before his mother grabbed his ball and they strolled away, disappearing from sight.

'Lil' touchy, wasn't she?' Darla commented, although if she had to be honset with herself, she would have done much more than merely yelling at the guy who dared to touch Connor. Lindsey shrugged.

'I guess so,' he said absent-mindedly. Darla tilted her head and studied his face.

'You're really good at dealing with children, aren't you?'

Lindsey smiled fondly.

'It's true. It must be because I've always liked children...'

She raised her eyebrows.

'Really?'

'What, you don't believe me?'

She shook her head as they resumed their stroll. 'No, it's not that at all. It's just... Well, I guess I'm the opposite.'

Lindsey looked surprised. 'You don't like children?'

'Well... no, I never did. They always annoyed me to no end and, in a way, they still do. I'm afraid I don't have the necessary patience to deal with them.'

He frowned. 'You don't seem to have any trouble dealing with Connor...'

Darla waved a dismissive hand. 'Connor's a different case. I love him, and even when I was soulless and wasn't able to do so, the bond between us made me want to protect him.'

They reached to the end of the park and they found themselves back in the noisy street. Lindsey looked pensive.

'But haven't you thought... haven't you thought that you could love other children as much as you love Connor?'

Darla stared at him, astounded.

'Lindsey, is not like I'm likely to have any other children, and I'm not planning to adopt either. Anyway, I never envisioned myself surrounded by small brats, playing Caroline Ingalls... The only thing I ever cared about children was what they tasted like.'

He winced at her last remark, and she regreted her words at once. It always made Lindsey slightly uncomfortable any mention to her condition as a vampire, reason for which she tried to avoid drinking blood in front of him and mentioning anything related to her heightened senses.

Lindsey changed the topic at once, something Darla was grateful for as the conversation had gotten utterly bizarre. Only many hours later, when Lindsey and her had parted ways, Darla had time to reflect about the look of longing in Lindsey's eyes as he comforted that small boy and what it could mean...

* * *

_Two months earlier_

It was the sort of idea that could only occur to Spike. After all, which place could be better for a ten-year-old (okay, almost eleven) than his own house, where he could be closely watched by his mother? Darla was certain that most mothers would have agreed with her on that point, but try telling that to Spike. No, instead of that, the guy had the great idea of taking Connor to a _rock concert_, nevertheless. A rock concert! Connor was too young to even know the name of any halfway decent rock band that could exist. Weren't kids his age supposed to listen to more, for lack of a better word, childish music? She wasn't saying that he had to watch the Teletubbies or Barney, but a rock concert seemed to be a little too much...

Of course, Connor had been thrilled with the idea. He practically worshipped Spike, and now that his hero's visits to England were so far between, he wouldn't miss a chance to spend some time with him. Besides, he'd never been to a concert before, so it had all the allure of the unknown.

He'd made the puppy face to her, widening his intense blue eyes and looking as charming as he could. When all had seemed to fail, he'd resorted to begging.

Spike, on the other hand, had hastened to reassure Darla that the security was very tight, and that as he had a VIP ticket they wouldn't be in the middle of the crowd. He'd even promised he would bring Connor back at a reasonable hour, and that he wouldn't give the boy anything to drink or eat that could endanger his not-so-delicate health.

'Besides, who's more capable of protectin' him than me?'

Darla suppressed the urge to say 'Well, that would be _me_', because she feared it would sound a little paranoid. She exchanged a glance with Lindsey, who had remained silent for the major part of the discussion, but his face was unreadable. Darla sighed.

'Give me a break, OK? I'm going to fix Connor's bedroom...'

Unsurprisingly, in no time the boy was at her heels and, just as she'd expected, he resumed the begging as soon as they were out of Lindsey's and Spike's sight.

'Mum, please, please, let me go... I've never been to something like this before, and Spike said it was safe...'

'Dear, I'm afraid that Spike's not the best one to judge this sort of thing.' She began to straighten the blue sheets on his bed, and Connor went to the other side of the bed and began helping her. 'I don't know, Connor. Perhaps I should have a quick word with Severus...'

'_Mum!_ Severus doesn't even know what a rock concert is. How can he know whether it would be suitable for me?' Sometimes, Darla was just astonished at Connor's quick thinking. 'Besides, he won't be at home. He said he was going over the Malfoys'...'

Darla sighed in defeat. 'Alright, I'll _think_ about it, OK?'

Connor nodded eagerly, and she thought she'd glimpsed a fleeting gleam of triunph in his eyes. Darla suspected that Connor was well aware of her inability to resist his charm for long. If it weren't for Severus strict ways, the boy would be spoiled rotten.

She left him unpacking his stuff, and as soon as she started to walk down the corridor, the sound of a heated argument reached her ears.

'...don't see why you've got to butt in, Cowboy...'

'I do "butt in", as you put it, because I have Connor's best interests at heart, and I think that your suggestion is unreasonable. Connor's not nearly old enough to go to a rock concert for heaven's sake. How could you even think such a thing?'

'Know what, Cowboy? Mind your own business. I'm takin' Pigeon to the concert whether you like it or not, so get used to the idea already...'

'No, I won't allow you to do so!'

There was a tense silence, broken by Spike's sniggering.

'And what are you gonna do 'bout it, boy? N'case you didn't notice, you aren't Connor's father.'

Darla froze on her spot, right at the end of the corridor. She now had a full view of Spike, who was lounging against a wall, with a defiant look on his face; whereas Lindsey had his hands on his hips and looked utterly furious.

'The kid's already got a father, that was ol' Peaches, no matter how much that bothers you,' Spike sneered, 'and a father figure, that'd be Snape. So get over it, mate: you're nobody to decide for Connor.'

The atmosphere at the room was so charged that Darla thought it could be sliced with a knife. She feared for a moment what Lindsey's reaction would be, but he looked thunderstuck, as though he'd been slapped across the face. Or perhaps received a punch on his stomach... or a bit lower.

'Er,' both men turned to look at her, dread showing on their faces as they realised they weren't alone, 'who wants a cup of coffee?'

* * *

_Three weeks earlier_

'I can't believe it, Lindsey! What the hell were you thinking!'

'Darla, please, calm down...'

Lindsey closed the door of Giles' office behind him, blocking from sight the startled Slayers-in-training, whose jaws had fallen open. Darla couldn't have cared less.

'Months, Lindsey. I spent months planning it, to the minimal detail. I had everything carefully calculated so nothing could go wrong – but you had to mess up all my plans!'

Lindsey's head jerked up, an indignant look appearing in his eyes.

'I didn't mess up everything – just made a mistake...'

'Which almost resulted in the death of three of our Slayers, not to mention the very Seer we were trying to protect,' Darla pointed out, her voice an octave below her normal tone. Lindsey winced. It was a well-known fact that the real danger wasn't when Darla shouted, but when she started to speak in cold whispers.

He swallowed. 'I know I screwed that one up – but I was able to fix it in the end, wasn't I? They didn't even get hurt, Darla, thanks to me if you don't mind me mentioning it...'

Her eyes narrowed as she slowly folded her arms. Normally, such position would mean the person was getting defensive, but Lindsey knew her better than that, which probably was the reason he almost took a step backwards.

'That is, Lindsey, precisely my point,' she said silkily. 'It wasn't up to you to fix it, as Giles and I had it completely covered. You claim that you fixed it but, my dear boy, I'm afraid you're forgetting the tiny detail that, hadn't it been for your inopportune appearance, there would have been nothing in need of fixing.'

Lindsey's head jerked backwards, as though she'd hit him. He composed in no time, though, and spoke in a voice that was almost as silky and low as hers.

'I see. So you clearly think that things would have turned out much better tonight hadn't I been there?'

Darla tilted her head and feigned to consider his words.

'Well, Lindsey, the main thing is, you weren't supposed to be there. Your intervention did blow up everything we had planned – and judging by the way Giles' eyes flared every time somebody mentioned you, I'm afraid I'm not the only one who thinks so.'

A thick, electrifying silence fell upon them. Darla could tell her words had stung Lindsey, and a small part of her thought that perhaps she'd gone a little too far... whereas another part of her wanted to punch him. Harshly.

Lindsey's head was turned, so she could not see his face. When silence between them stretched on, becoming more and more charged with every passing second, Darla decided to change tactics.

'Why, Lindsey? If I had already told you we had everything covered...'

Lindsey sighed, still not looking at her.

'Not everything,' he whispered. 'The Slayers were too focused with the Seer, and you didn't have anyone to watch your back...'

Darla stared at him in disbelief. 'Lindsey, do you think I'm stupid? That I would walk into danger without backup? Sorry, but I'm no Spike or Faith, who like the suicidal thing. I prefer not to take unecessary risks, and I would have believed you knew me well enough by now to be aware of it.' She rolled her eyes. 'And the Slayers were supposed to be focused solely on the Seer, as his life was the valuable one!'

'Not to me.'

Darla stared at him, but Lindsey's face was still turned, his gaze fixed on one of Giles' many bookshelves. She ran a hand through her hair, which was covered in vampire dust, and suppresed her first impulse, that consisted of throwing at Lindsey the coffee mug on Giles' desk. Instead, she opted to calm herself down so when she spoke her voice was controlled and steady.

'Look, Lindsey, I want you to know that I appreciate your concern, really. But in times like this, I find it a little irritating, not to say insulting to my intelligence.' This time, Lindsey dignified her with a look, which was more of an incensed glare than anything else. She felt anger rising inside her again. 'Well, it's true! You really thought I had no backup? That I would let myself get killed? Do you know me so little, after two years of dating? _I_ don't go into a mission without a Plan B. _I _don't go into the line of fire without a good reason. That's for the Spikes, Faiths and, why not, the Angels of this world. I'm none. I don't have a stupid, suicidal hero complex. And I'm certainly no damsel in distress to need you as my knight in shining armour for heaven's sake, Lindsey!'

Lindsey winced as though hit by an electrical shock. Darla idly wondered what could have upset him the most: her mocking of his overprotective ways or her mention of Angel's name. Normally she did not dare to mention the deceased vampire in front of him without good reason, but that night she was far too mad at Lindsey to care about his petty jealously. She noticed, slightly amused, that his hands had clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. That would leave nasty marks on his hands.

For a moment, he looked ready to explode. His face had turned crimson, his eyes were flashing in anger and he was starting to hiperventilate. _Luckily he's far too young to have a stroke... I hope._ However, Lindsey McDonald wasn't known for losing his grip that easily. After a few seconds of resembling an insolated tomato, he began to take long, deep breaths and to open and close his hands, until his knuckles returned to its natural colour as the red vanished from his cheeks. When he spoke, his tone was absolutely colourless:

'And what do you need, Darla?'

Darla stared at him, then began to wave her hands in exasperation.

'I need somebody who sees me exactly for what I am, Lindsey. Not a Prince Charming to take me running into the sunset, not a hero to rescue me. I need somebody to care for me, yes, but not to treat me as though I was made of glass. I can very well take care of myself, thank you very much. Did it for four centuries so I don't need a gurdian.' She put a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and wondered whether Lindsey was getting her message or was still as clueless as always. 'I need somebody to be with, somebody who accepts me just the way I am. In short, I need you, Lindsey... the way you are when you don't try to be all 'macho' and act as if I was a normal, helpless girl. And if you can't see that... If you can't realise who I really am and accept it... then I see no point in this.'

She stretched her arms wide open, as if saying 'what you see is what you get.' Lindsey stared at her, clearly astounded.

'Darla, I... I never meant... you know how much I love you...'

'I know you love me,' she said calmly, 'but do you accept me?'

Lindsey looked at her, wide-eyed. 'Of course I do, Darla! I just wanted to protect you – I know that you don't need me to protect you, but I wasn't thinking rationally at the moment. I'm sorry if that... if that made you feel as though I didn't...' Lindsey opened and closed his mouth, obviously at a loss of how to express himself. 'I'm sorry,' he simply said. 'For that, and for what happened tonight. Do you think... Do you think you can forgive me?'

As a response, Darla shortened the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she could feel him letting out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around her as well.

Darla wished this moment could last forever... but deep down, she knew better.

* * *

_Saturday night_

It was one of those simple things Darla enjoyed the most: a quiet dinner at home, a glass of good wine in her hand, Chopin music on the background and a stimulating chat with Lindsey. Not that he was being very conversational that night, though: he looked absent-minded. Darla didn't pay it much attention to that detail. She'd realised that, after two years of dating, she and Lindsey didn't need to fill the silence with useless words to be comfortable with each other. Instead, she took a sip of wine, closed her eyes and enjoyed the smooth rythym of the music and the rich flavour in her mouth. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed that he was watching her, a somewhat dazed look in his blue eyes. She smiled and, stretching her leg, playfully poked his knee with her toe.

'What's going on in that head of yours that you're being so silent tonight?'

He blinked, and a smile crept over his face.

'In our anniversary.'

Darla would have choked, had she been able to.

_Anniversary? Had she just forgotten her damned anniversary?_

'Wait a moment... it's not our anniversary,' she pointed out, relief washing over her. 'This is not the day we started to date.'

'I know,' Lindsey said softly, 'But it's the day I met you at the hotel, after all that time without seeing you, remember?'

Darla's eyes widened a little.

'I do remember that encounter – but how do you remember the date?'

Lindsey laughed at the look of awe on her face. In a sudden, though, his face got serious.

'How couldn't I? I didn't know it back then, but I know it now: that night, the happiest time of my life began.'

There was an intensity in his eyes that wasn't usually showed by the calm and collected lawyer most people knew. Touched by his words, Darla was only a little surprised – after all, she wasn't exactly the romantic type – at the ease with which she responded:

'Mine too, love. Mine too.'

And she was being absolutely sincere. Back when she had a soul, she couldn't experience happiness, not for real. Then, her come back as a human hadn't been particularly joyful. Once her soul had been back in place, there had been so much pain, so much self-doubt and guilt and struggle to find what the right thing was... The moments she shared with Connor were pure bliss and Spike and Faith had turned into an unexpected source of comfort; in spite of that, Darla felt she was on her own against the world most of the time. Until Lindsey came along, and she realised she no longer had to be alone.

Lindsey moved closer until there were only inches between them.

'I'm glad to hear that.'

He bent over and kissed her. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer, tasting his mouth as if it were the last time she could do so. She broked the kiss after a moment, though, as she knew Lindsey needed to catch his breath, whether he admitted it or not. An inter-species relationship had its particular things to consider, no doubt.

Lindsey's skin was flushed and his eyes were brighter than ever.

'I wouldn't mind doing that forever.'

She laughed softly. 'You would run out of breath pretty fast, trust me.'

He didn't seem to have listened. That absent look had returned to his eyes and Darla frowned, wondering where his mind might be.

'You know, we've never discussed about the future.'

She raised an eyebrow, bemused. Lindsey seemed to realise he needed to be more specific.

'I mean, I know we're alright just like now but, perhaps... I've been thinking... Well, I would like this to last, you know.'

Darla smiled, amused. 'Well, I'm not going anywhere, are you?'

'Yes, but...' Lindsey hesitated, and Darla had the sudden suspicion that they had reached the point he really wanted to talk about. She waited, until he finally seemed to have made up his mind. 'I have something for you.'

His right hand searched in his pocket, and he pulled out a blue small box. He took Darla's wrist with his free hand and placed the box in hers. She cast q questioning look at him, but nothing showed on his face. Darla decided that the only way to find out what was going on was to open the box.

She did so and peered into the contents of the box. Then she blinked and looked again, certain that her eyes were deceiving her, a trick of the light perhaps... When she looked again, though, the vision was still there and she started to fear she would have to accept it was real. Just in case, she tried pushing her luck.

'What is it?'

Now Lindsey was the amused one. 'Well, what does it look like?'

'It looks like a ring but...' Darla's voice tailed off as she studied it more closely. It was a ring, there was no way to deny that, but it didn't look like the rings she used to wear. It was a thin golden band, with a sparkling, traslucid diamond in the middle. She stared at it in disbelief. It looked like the kind of ring a guy would offer a girl just when he was about to... but that couldn't be the case...

'It's just symbolic, you know. Not like I'm planning to drag you into a church or anything... not precisely a recommended thing for your health...'

Darla looked up from the offending piece of metal and stone, and saw the hope shinning on Lindsey's features. The full meaning of his words hit her at last. There was no deceiving from her senses, no trick of the light: this was for real.

Darla wasn't one to dramatize things (that was more of Spike's area of expertise) but she could have sworn that the whole world had paralysed in the split second it took her to realise what was going on, both what Lindsey was trying to tell her and what he didn't realise he was saying at all. In a sudden, everything changed. The quiet, comfortable atmosphere around her became charged and asphyxiating; the music stopped having its soothing effect, as though a jarring note had broken its pleasant, natural melody; she felt the cool glass shattering in her palm although the conscious part of her knew it remained intact, whereas the taste of wine turned into dry ashes in her mouth. In a sudden, everything seemed to have shattered around her, everything was tainted, gone.

Lindsey kept looking at her, his gaze intense, but now the intensity of his gaze meant something else entirely, something she should have seen coming, something she should have been able to put a stop to before it was too late.

It was said that, when death was at your heels, you saw flashes of your entire life. Darla had had several narrow escapes, without experiencing this phenomenon. However, that night memories, if not of her life, at least of those things she should have seen earlier, flashed before her eyes.

_The look of longing on Lindsey's face when he comforted that four-year-old at the park... his insistence on Darla getting Connor's custody at last... his overportectiveness of her, as well as his possessiveness when Spike showed up... the way he tried to fix her problems, whether she asked for his help or not... the hurt he'd showed when Spike had said Angel was Connor's father and not him... the jealously he still held for Angel..._

Suddenly, everything made absolute, painful sense. How couldn't she have seen it before? How couldn't she have known it?

But she did know now, and she also knew what needed to be done, although it broke her heart. In that moment of clarity, though, she saw there was no other choice left, not if she wanted to spare Lindsey and her further heartache.

Lindsey's blue eyes, alight with expectation, started to somber as he saw the grim expression on her face. In silence, moving in slow motion, Darla placed the glass of wine on the coffee table, closed the lid of the blue box and handed it back to Lindsey. His eyes widened, clearly clueless about what was going on.

'It's the most beautiful gift anyone has given me,' she whispered, ' but I cannot accept it.'

His jaw fell open in shock. He stared at the box, then looked back at her.

'Why?'

Darla never ceased to feel amazed at the amount of emotions one single world could muster: shock, confusion, hurt and a hint of anger. What she was going to say next, she feared, would cause him even more hurt and anger.

'Because, with that ring, you are asking me for something I cannot give you.'

'But it was supposed to be something symbolic, Darla! It's not like I'm asking you to...'

'Yes, you are, Lindsey. Symbolic things are supposed to have a meaning... and the meaning of this ring is that you need much more than I could possibly offer you.'

She knew he would protest. She knew he would have an argument for everything she said. She knew there would be convincing words, persuasion and, if everything else failed, there could be begging. Lindsey was a lawyer, after all. Her only chance was not to let him speak until she was finished.

'This ring means that you are looking for stability, for a safe life. I cannot provide. It means you are yearning a family, even children. You know that's impossible.' Lindsey opened his mouth to protest, she silenced him with a look. 'This ring means you're craving for a compromise that I'm not sure is the kind I can offer you. You're seeking normalcy, and sunlight, and all those things human that I would never be able to give you.' Reaching this point, Darla's shoulders sunk in defeat. 'You're dreaming of a future together, Lindsey.'

Lindsey's head jerked up, and Darla recognized in his eyes the fierce look he always got when he was in the middle of a court session.

'And what's wrong with that? Darla, we're happy together. Why don't make it last? I never felt with anyone what I feel with you. Is it wrong if I say I want to stay with you forever?'

He shot her a triunphal look, but she was shaking her head sadly.

'That's the problem, Lindsey. What does "forever" mean to you? Fifty years, perhaps? Sixty, if you're lucky? To me, forever means a bit longer than that. Lindsey, can't you see,' she said, a desperate plea in her voice. 'I can give you my soul, my heart and my mind, but I can't give you a "happily ever after". I can give you the entirety of my present, but don't ask me for a future. There's no future, no forever for us. There never was.'

She rose to her feet, her face a cold mask of feigned calm.

'I'm not Cinderella, waiting to be rescued from a dusty cellar and a miserable life. I'm not Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, waiting for Prince Charming to come and take me in his swift steed. I'm not a human woman, one that can give you the children you long for, the stability you need and the possibility of reaching an old age surrounded by grandchildren. I'm a vampire, with a soul, but a vampire still, and my needs are different from yours. And I'm afraid that I can't change to fit your needs. If you fail to see that,' Darla couldn't help her voice trembling a little, 'then I have no choice but ask you to leave.'

Lindsey's flashed with indignation. 'Are you asking me to leave your house?'

Darla looked at him, an infinite sadness shadowing her clear eyes.

'No, Lindsey. I'm asking you to leave my life.'

* * *

_Sunday, midday_

After Lindsey had left, Darla spent a long, indefinite time sitting on the couch, staring absently into space. When she could be sitting no more, she rose and got ready for bed, although it was still too early for her. She sprawled on her bed and stared at the ceiling, but she did not sleep. Instead, she lay there for hours, unable to think, unable to feel nothing but the icy numbness that had seized her limbs.

In the moment the shadows on the ceiling began to flicker and fade, she realised she'd had enough and grabbed the phone. Her fingers dialed a number automatically.

It turned out to be Spike's, or at least the phone number Spike had that week. It was surprising how she could remember his phone numbers and his changing addresses so easily.

After she had spoken to him, she felt slightly better. She was able to rise from bed and heat some blood for breakfast. Then she proceeded to do the washing-up and wiping every surface in the kitchen, unable to come up with something else to occupy her hands and mind. When there was no surface left to clean, she sank on the couch again and turned on the TV. Within minutes, she was crawled on the couch, sound asleep.

She was brought back to reality by insistent knocking on her door. Dazed, with her pyjamas crumpled and her hair a terrible mess, she walked to the door and opened it. Suddenly she felt completely awake.

Standing before her, as if it were a vision from a bizarre dream, was Spike. A Spike that was wearing a Red Sox cap, huge sunglasses and a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

'Spike, how...? How did you get here so fast, and in broad sunlight...?

He smiled mischieviously. 'I called in for a lot of favours, pet.'

Darla stared at him, speechless. Then, in a rush, all the emotions that had been trapped deep down seemed to surface, and scathing pain overcame her as burning tears rolled down her cheeks.

She didn't know how it happen, but in an instant Spike's arms were wrapped around her, as her body shaked and all the tears she hadn't shed during that long, hurtful night wet his blanket.

'Hush, hush, pet,' he said softly as he caressed her hair. She sobbed harder, for once unable to control herself.

'He's gone, Spike. Lindsey's gone.'

Spike's arms held her tighter.

'I know, pet. But I'm not goin' anywhere.'

* * *

**Imzadi:** Ten points to you for guessing Lindsey's motivations and which the reasons of a break-up with Darla would be. Congratulations! I guess you aren't very happy right now, but I never planned for their relationship to last. In the long run, they would've done no good to each other.

On Spike & Buffy, yep, it's sad when love dies, and I think the same can be applied to Darla and Lindsey now. Hopefully they'll all find happiness - even Severus ;). I'm afraid Lindsey won't show up in the last episode, but you're free to, in your mind, pair up Lindsey with any other female character you wish, except Anne and Faith. The rest are single.

**Now, there's only one episode left, so this is your chance of leaving me a review. Not like I'm begging...**


	19. Epilogue

**Imzadi:** Your support during the course of this fic has meant a lot to me and now that it has come to an end I wanted to thank you for your encouragement. It means a lot to me that you wrote the last review with tears in your eyes, I'm happy that you considered it to be so touching. I particularly liked last episode, although I had a hard time trying to make Darla and Lindsey's break-up convincing and not too sappy. On the other hand, I laughed a lot with your suggestions. Who knows what could happen...**

* * *

**

Epilogue:

'_If I could tell the world just one thing_

_It would be that we're all OK_

_And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful_

_And useless in times like these_

_I won't be made useless_

_I won't be idle with despair_

_I will gather myself around my faith_

_For light does the darkness most fear_

_My hands are small, I know_

_But they're not yours, they are my own_

_But they're not yours, they are my own_

_And I am never broken'_

_**- 'Hands', by Jewel -**_

On her tiptoes, careful not to make the faintest sound, Darla walked down the corridor and came to a halt before the ajar door. With a gentle touch, she pushed it open and peered inside.

The silvery rays of moonlight illuminated the room which clearly belonged to a boy. There were colourful posters hanging from the walls, which glittered platinum; countless comics on the shelves, old action figures, a strange looking baseball bat and a magnificent trunk. In the middle of it all, under a mess of entangled white sheets, lay Connor, his body still and his arms and legs sprawled across the bed. Darla watched intently the slow rising movement of his chest, the musical sound of his soft, regular breathing echoing in her ears. Smiling, she stepped inside and walked towards her child. She looked at him for a moment, contemplating the peaceful expression on his face, the shadow of a smile quirking his lips...

_Sleep tight, my dear. Mum's here, and you have nothing to fear._

She bent over him and straightened the sheets, careful not to disturb his sleep. The boy didn't even stir. Darla walked away from him and headed to the window, in order to shut the curtains close; otherwise daybreak would wake him up and her child needed all the rest he could get.

Darla abandoned the room, closing the door behind her, and headed to the stairs that led to the building's roof. Once outside, she walked towards the edge and gazed below, at the twinkling lights of London, which continued as far as her sight could reach, melting with the dark horizon. There were almost no stars here to soothe her soul and the city's air was tainted with smog and other nasty smells characteristic of the metropolis, but there was a cool breeze caressing her skin and a wonderful sight to entertain her eyes. What else could she ask for?

She sat next to the edge, enjoying this small moment of peace and allowing her mind to wander. Her thoughts drifted from the starless sky, and they happened to land on Lindsey.

Connor had asked Spike – when he'd thought she was out of earshot – about him. His precise words were whether she was sad because of Lindsey. Poor Connor. He'd been quite upset at Lindsey's sudden departure to the States, although he'd tried not to show it. He'd quite liked Lindsey, who always had time for him and who had taught him to play the guitar. He just couldn't get why his mother could have had a fight with him.

Darla had tried to explain him that sometimes, even though two people loved each other very much, things just didn't work out. Connor was a perceptive boy and he hadn't bothered her with questions, but she suspected he still did not understand what had happened between them. He was young, after all, and naïve, way too naïve to try to comprehend the complicated ways adults' relationships worked out. Darla feared that Connor would miss Lindsey a lot and she was sorry that bond had to be broken so abruptly.

She missed Lindsey, too. She had just gotten used to his company, his support, his love. It had been so easy for a while, to pretend she was just like any other woman, and love him back. To wait him with dinner ready and Chardonnay as Brahms echoed in the background, and talk about each other's days. It had been so simple, for a while, to be able to show herself just the way she was, without masks, without pretenses. And it had been so warming to be accepted.

But Lindsey hadn't accepted her, not fully, had he? If he had, he wouldn't have asked her to chase an impossible dream, he wouldn't have craved for things she could not give him, no matter how much it pained her to deny them to him. No, if he had really accepted her just the way she was, without false hopes and unreachable uthopies, she wouldn't be standing under a pitch-black sky on her own, but between his arms.

Darla missed Lindsey, and she knew she would miss him for quite a long time until she began to heal, but she did not regret her decision. She knew that what she had with Lindsey couldn't be preserved. They could have lasted one, perhaps two, months more... but the beautiful feeling that united them would have died eventually, killed by Lindsey's absurd jealously of Angel, his unfulfilled dreams of a family and a future together, and Darla's bitterness and impatience at his lack of foresight. It would have been terrible, watching something so precious, so vibrant, to die little by little, with every passing day, until there was nothing left but bitterness and regrets. No, Darla could not let it happen. She could not stand the idea of losing Lindsey's love little by little, like Spike had watched Buffy's love dying away. She could not bear losing Lindsey in pieces; he could not bear losing her at once. He'd called several times to beg, to reason, but Darla had been inflexible. In the end, Lindsey had come to terms with the reality of their situation, he'd packed and marched back to the States. Darla felt relief washing over her and wondered whether that wasn't terribly selfish on her part. She shook her head. Those thoughts never occurred to her didn't happen when she'd been soulless.

Darla gazed at the lights below, which were disappearing one by one as even this city needed its sleep. Her mind drifted and returned to her child, who was safe and sound in his bed, under her watch where no one could hurt him. He wouldn't be for a long time.

Connor had turned eleven. In England, eleven was the age normal children started secondary school. This wouldn't have affected Darla much – but Connor wasn't a normal child. He belonged to the Wizarding world, a world where children didn't go to a regular secondary school in the neighbourhood. Children in the Wizarding world, once they turned eleven, abandoned their homes and left to the ancient castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

If she only thought about distances, which meant nothing when you were a wizard and you could use the Floo Network, it was a small change. After all, Connor lived in the village closest to Hogwarts. But if she considered time, it was a great difference. Connor would spend ten entire months at Hogwarts; if she was lucky, she would have to wait until Christmas to see him again. No longer would be her apartment be filled with his silvery laughter, no longer would they go to the cinema on weekends, no longer would she be woken up early in the morning by the sound of his soft steps in the corridor, not until holidays started. In the meantime, Connor would be away from her. He would be meeting new people, attending difficult lessons and facing many troubles of his own; however, she would not be there to listen to his chatter, she would not be there to lend him a hand with his homework, she would not be there to hug him and comfort him if things weren't going okey. He would be out of her reach and all they would be able to exchange would be words written down in paper. But Darla knew that for a child wasn't enough to get a letter from his mother; he needed her gentle touch, her smiles, the sound of her voice caressing his ears. He needed her, damn it, he was far too young to be taken away from her. Who had been the sadist that had invented boarding school?

If she was honest with herself, though, she would have to admit that Connor didn't seem troubled at all at the prospect of spending many months away from home. After all, Severus would still be around as he was one of the teachers, and he'd been prepared for Hogwarts during most of his childhood. Actually, Connor was absolutely thrilled at the idea of going to Hogwarts at last. He'd been chattering non-stop about his future lessons, the people he expected to meet, Quidditch matches, House Cups and everything that was related to his new school. Darla doubted he would miss her half she would miss him.

It was only natural, she guessed, that parents felt the absence of their children much more than they did once they had started to grow up and become independant. She knew that would happen to Connor, too; as soon as he started to mature, until there would be a time he would no longer need her at all. There would be a time when he would become a full-grown man.

It was hard to believe, though. She still remembered as if it were yesterday how tiny and fragile her baby boy had looked in her arms, when Angel had let her carry him for the first and only time. She still remembered what he'd looked like when she'd seen him for the first time through the snow-flickered window glass on Christmas, so many years ago. She still remembered how soft his voice had been the first time he'd seen her and asked whether she was a dryad. Darla smiled at the memory. Her sweet, charming boy.

He had been far too quiet and grave for a child his age, she remembered. He had loosen up after a while until soon he'd resembled a real child and not a miniature version of a cynical middle-aged man. He had laughed and played and chattered, his eyes had turned round as saucers at Disney's movies, he had seeked her comfort when he had a problem; he had fallen asleep on her lap as she stroked his hair... She had watched him as his voice became firmer and steadier, as he grew taller and wiser, as he abandoned his childish games and started to look the world around him with new eyes. He had become stronger, too, and sharper, as he had developed and matured in every way a child should. Darla had watched as his baby slowly turned into a young adolescent and soon, before she realised it, he would become a young man.

Even when it was still a little early to say, Darla thought she could already see Connor as a man. He would be kind yet firm, fair and open-minded, ready to listen to other people's views before judging them. He would be brave like his father, with his same willingness to help others; and he would have his mother's sharpness and perhaps her slightly twisted humour sense. He would inherit the best from his parents, but he would also have many virtues his father and mother had never known. She knew Connor would make her proud, so even though it broke her heart, she promised herself that the following morning, when Connor said goodbye and departed to Hogwarts, she would smile and put on a brave face. It was the least she could do for such an amazing child.

A distant clattering sound was heard. Darla jumped to her feet at once, bent and peered over the edge at the alley below. She scrutinized the dark, searching for signs of anything suspicious going on, but her eyes found nothing more dangerous than a stray cat playing with a tin can. She shook her head and sat again.

Her eyes contemplated London's dark streets, which ran through the city like open veins, stretching to the horizon. The city looked very different from the last time she had visited it before Angel dusted her, she came back and got a soul along with a child. In that time, London had been nothing but a buffet to her, a place to satisfy her worst instincts, always ready to feed her lips with blood and her body with lust. Now, though, it had become a both safe and dangerous place. Safe, as it was home, dangerous when she thought of all the monsters lurking in the shadows, ready to attack Connor and those she held dear.

Or perhaps it wasn't London what had changed, but herself. Darla no longer recognized herself in the scared, sceptical girl whose name she could not even remember, the beaten up girl who had known nothing good or pure in her whole life and had been finally put out of her misery by the Master.

Darla no longer saw herself in the vile creature that had terrorized the five continents, wreaking havoc and slaughtering hundreds of innocents as she passed.

Darla could no longer what it felt like to be a scared, weak human at Wolfram and Hart's mercy, a mere puppet who never knew who was pulling her strings. She no longer felt the desperation of that lonely, unbalanced woman who had asked Angel to kill her just to end with her pain. She no longer knew what it felt like to have a heart beating in your chest, all the time marking the seconds of fragile life you had already lost.

Darla no longer was the renewed vampire that had painted Los Angeles' streets red with Drusilla's help, she no longer had delusions of power beyond human comprehension, she no longer craved for it. Neither Darla was the pregnant demon who had tried to get rid of that unnatural, unexpected life growing inside her.

Darla had changed. In every way possible, she had changed. She had overcome her inner demons, she had learnt to love and care for others, she had risked her life for the greater good. She knew the fear, not for herself but for others; she knew the bitter grief when somebody esteemed was lost to the cause; the sense of failure when she couldn't save an innocent life; the fury at the unfair way this world seemed to work. But she had also known the bliss of loving and being loved back, of laughing freely, she knew the warmth of an embrace, the comfort of a friend, the pride of doing what was right. And that was much more than she had ever had before.

Darla knew that only a part of that incommensurable change was a consequence of her soul. Yes, she was aware that without her soul she wouldn't have been able to feel guilt and shame over her past sins, she wouldn't have felt the desire to make things right. She knew she wouldn't have, without her soul, had the ability to feel and love. But she also knew that without Connor she would have never wished to seek for a soul. She knew that, without Spike's not-always-so-patient guide she wouldn't have been able to walk through the shadows that sombered her mind and heart. She knew that, without friends like Faith, she would have never known what companionship was about. Without the aid of people like Wesley or Giles she would have never been able to stand up so many times. She knew that, without the chances to do good both Willow and Buffy had given her, she wouldn't have joined the good fight. But, above all that, she knew that without Angel's mercy she would have never been standing where she was right now.

She smiled sadly at the memory. Angel had been the first one who had ever bothered to lend her a hand. He had been the only one willing to risk his very own life to give her a chance, chance she did not deserve. His efforts to save her had been vain, but he had taught Darla the value of mercy and compassion; he had taught her that there were people capable of giving up everything just to help somebody else. And he had given her the greatest gift of all: Connor.

The world had lost one of its best and worthiest champions the night Angel had been staked. He had saved so many people, he had tried so hard to make things right... in the end, it hadn't even mattered. He had been dusted like the rest, and shadows had fallen upon his city. He no longer was there to protect the innocent, to help the helpless as he once had.

Or perhaps not all his efforts had been wasted. Because those who remembered him, those he had helped – Faith, Fred, Gunn and Wesley, herself and so many others – were now fighting his fight, just where he had left it. They might not have his greatness, but they were all doing their best to live up to his memory, to pay back all he had done for them.

Darla herself knew she was no angel. She was fully aware that she didn not share Angel's strength, both physical and moral; that she hadn't his kindness or his knack for saving lost souls. She wasn't guilt ridden like he had been, neither did she believe there was a shinning prize in the form of a Shanshu prophecy waiting for her if she was a good girl and ate all her vegetables.

The evil in this world was much greater than her. Every time she won a battle, a new form of evil raised to endanger all she held dear. For every person she saved, there were many others that were slaughtered. For every little thing she did right, a thousand mistakes haunted her sleeping hours.

However, as flawed and unworthy as she could be, she was now standing on her own feet. She was now ready to face whatever the world decided to throw at her. She might not be the Golden Slayer, she might not be able to fill Angel's shoes, but she was right here, right now, willing to do what needed to be done. She might be small, but she wouldn't be overstepped. She might look fragile, but looks could be deceiving. She might be no saint, but she was fighting the good fight with all her strength. She wouldn't let her arms down. She wouldn't stop fighting.

Because many people had helped her to get here. And she would not let them down. She would not fail them. She would not disappoint her friends, she would not stop protecting Connor.

And she would not let Angel's sacrifice to be in vain.

-

Veiled by the shadows, invisible even to a vampire's superb nightsight, someone was watching the blonde vampire on the roof. It was quite a peculiar personage, with his strange hat and his old-fashioned clothes, but his eyes showed the wisdom of many centuries. He had lived and seen much and the lessons learnt had remained with him.

He had learnt much in these few last years. He had been sent to seek for that pitiful excuse of a vampire called Angel, who hid in smelly sewers and lived off rats. It was a pathetic creature, escaping from both humans and demons alike, haunted by the guilt of all the evil done but unable to make up for any of it. When he'd been told that this vampire would become one of the greatest champions of humankind, he had snorted.

He had been able to put Angel in the right path, though, and soon he had to eat his own words, because Angel turned out to be much more than he had ever imagined. He faltered many times – Alcathla was only an example, like the lawyers of Wolfram and Hart murdered at his ex's hands – but all in all, he became a worthy Champion of the helpless. He had lost count of how many had been saved, directly or not, by the souled vampire's will.

He had been led to believe that Angel would have a chance to make up for all the harm done. After all, The Powers That Be had made him return the vampire from the hell the Slayer had sent him to, and hadn't they promised to award him with the promise of making him human again?

However, one simple night, one mere second had been enough to bring the great Champion down. In one instant, all his and Angel's hard work had vanished into thin air when the shadow of death swept over the vampire, taking him away from this world.

He, who wasn't one to show human emotions as he was no human, had felt furious. After all that had taken to set Angel in the right path, after all Angel had gone through, proving once and again that he was worthy, The Powers That Be allowed a faceless human to dust him. And, this time, he hadn't been allowed to bring him back.

Instead, The Powers had the funny idea of stepping in to save Darla. Darla, who had never done anything for somebody else than herself; who had never felt true guilt or tried to make up for all she had done; who wasn't strong enough to stand on her own. Why had They wanted her to live, why had They chose her over Angel? What were they playing at? Darla couldn't help herself, let alone save other people. Which chance would humankind stand with Angel gone?

However, once again he had to eat his words. Darla had not only managed to save herself, but she had proved more than once that she was worthy of the task The Powers had placed on her shoulders. She was strong and brave, not in the reckless way Angel had been, but brave nevertheless. She was fair and although it was hard for her to be kind, she was ready to lend a hand. She didn't enjoy fighting, but she put aside her fears and did what needed to be done. She had her flaws, but no Champion in human history had been perfect.

Because that was what the blonde vampiress had become and Whistler wasn't sorry to admit he had been wrong about her. He wasn't sorry to admit that he had judged The Powers' decision lightly.

It was true that They had deprived this world of a great Champion. It was true that Angel would be solely missed.

But now Whistler knew, as he saw the petite, powerful woman gazing into the night, that The Powers That Be might have taken away one Champion, only to put another Champion, as worthy as the last one, in his place.

* * *

PLEASE, DON'T SKIP THIS PART!

Good. Now that we have made that point fully clear, there are a few things I want to say:

First of all, thanks to all who reviewed and/or read this fic. I had very little hope than anybody would be interested in this but thankfully you proved me wrong.

Secondly, although it saddens me to say this is the end of 'Ain't so far down', this is not the end of Darla's and Connor's tale. As you probably know, there's a companion fic, 'Two Single Parents', that tells things from Connor's and Snapes POV. 'Ain't so far down' ends where '2 single parents's chapter 18 starts, so that would be a continuation on its own. Also, I'm planning to write a fic for each year harry spends at Hogwarts, but told from Connor's, Darla's, Spike's, Snape's and Sirius' POV. So stay tuned, that there is much to come!

If you want me to notify you when I update this series, leave your e-mail address. See you!


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